Six Days, Seven Nights
by Strykenine
Summary: John finds himself in an unfriendly future. He joins Catherine in an uneasy alliance and though they have different goals, their paths are joined. Rated M for Sci-fi violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Foreword - The John Connor Chronicles**

I'm putting this forward to paper just a few weeks after we learned that T:SCC will not be back for a third season. I'm sure this comes as a surprise to no one as we saw the rating plummet during the last half of season two. Still, I can appreciate what the writers were trying to do with the story and I felt compelled to try my hand at this fan fiction thing. I've written before but never in fanfic circles, so bear with me.

A little background on this story: It takes place after Born to Run. It's a hard act to follow, mostly because I think the writers knew it was the last episode. I tried to lump a bunch of things into this story and explain some of the more important questions that went on during the series. Seeing as how there won't be any more T:SCC, I also opened a few OC's and plot threads of my own. I have all of the chapters finished save for the last one or two which were in progress but sucked. The subject is essentially set in stone but my motivations are driven entirely by ego, so please RnR.

I'm a big fan of the Jameron pair and this is, at its heart, a Jameron fic. You may find it hard to believe then that I didn't include any sex between any of the characters. Shocking...I know. There is an ample amount of violence, however. You may also be saddened to learn despite my Jameron leanings that Cameron has a **very** minimal role in this story - there is a good reason for this but I won't go into it here. If you don't care for the story because it lacks 'that' dynamic I can only ask you to give it a chance on other grounds. I promise that the next entry will be much more civil and J/C oriented, if only you can get through this.

I'd also like to thank all the other T:SCC writers for giving me some diversions while I worked through this story. It's interesting to see the different directions that people take the characters. Particular thanks goes out to T. for 'Only Lonely' and its offspring and Pjazz for his wonderful story 'The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum.' That one has kept me entertained.

I've tried to be careful with the characters but I have taken a few liberties with them. If you were a fan of T:SCC, then I think you'll find this fulfilling. This really deserves some heavy rewrites but I needed to get it up and take a break, so here it is. I'll stop here lest this forward become a chapter by itself. Think of it as what could have been...

Please read, review and enjoy!

S9

P.S. Please review, and feel free to speak your mind. I can take it.

P.S.S. I have a few bits that I am working on for the next part and if anyone would like a preview I'd be happy to share.

**(*****)**

If there was one thing John understood about the future it was this: It sucked. Since he had arrived, John had been stripped naked, laughed at and left to the wolves. He had to practically beg for clothes _from his own father_. The people had done this to him - he hadn't even met a machine yet. He hadn't been shot at, chased or blown up but given his luck he figured it was only a matter of time.

At first he'd been thrilled to see Derrick. When that scruffy face turned towards him his heart jumped. The emotion quickly faded. Derrick was Derrick. He was suspicious. How do you know my name? Who are you? What are you doing here? There was no love for John Connor here - no one had ever heard his name. He tried to think of something to say, but the voice of reason held him back.

Remember what they did to me when I started talking about time travel, a robot sent from the future to kill her unborn son, the savior of mankind? Well, these guys have guns. Big ones. Shut the hell up.

This voice sounded a lot like his mother.

Needless to say, Kyle took his jacket back. The soldiers weren't being cruel, they were just teasing, but John felt a million miles from home. He had never been more alone than he was right now. As for Derrick and Kyle, their small group of soldiers had moved on down the tunnels and into the outside. John had spent the rest of the day simply hiding out, unable to think, unsure of what to do next. Seeing his uncle, his father and Alison Young walk away from him was the most surreal moment of it all. They didn't know who he was and they didn't care. Tunnel rats were everywhere, and their lives were worth approximately zip.

After that he tried to find a place to hide, somewhere where he could gather his thoughts. Waver had vanished into the rubble and John had his doubts about her. This trip to the future was looking more and more like a very large error on his part. He found a quiet place, deep in the shadows of the underground and settled onto the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest.

Night fell and another thing struck him: The future smelled...odd. The air had a cool, electric quality that seemed to rise as night approached. He could smell smoke mixed with rain and found himself wondering if he had arrived in the spring or summer. By some grace he remained undisturbed and decided to curl up for the night. In the morning he'd have to make his move out of here, but for now he just wanted to survive the night. He just needed time.

Time. What a concept.

There were other people around him, of course. Drifters. Tunnel rats. John could see why they were called that. The people that lived here were the semi-literate first generation of survivors. Some of them were old enough to remember how good it was before. Some of them had seen the fire. Most of them weren't that old. Far and away, most of them were young, almost children. These people had known nothing else. They had been born into hell.

Laying on a cool sheet of concrete somewhere in the shallow underground, John could feel his anxiety begin to slip away. His mind slowed and for the first time since he got there he could think. The night was quiet, the only sounds he could hear were coming from down the tunnel somewhere. Someone was coughing up a fit. There was a child crying and what sounded like muffled conversation. John sprawled out and tried to block it all out, but he still felt a lump rising from his throat. He tried to tune it out.

"So this is the future?" He breathed out.

"Indeed it is John. How do you like it so far?" Said a sweet voice.

Johns eyes snapped open. "Weaver?" He focused on something above him and could make out a silver mass moving against the curved ceiling. It dropped to the ground in a motion that reminded him of melted wax, forming a pool that slowly took the shape of a woman.

"You may call me Catherine." She purred with a thick Scottish rogue. John got a good look at her. She stood out in any time with her ivory skin and stunning hair. She was too clean, too pretty. What was it about these things anyway? They seemed to perfect, and in that way they were less than human. Real people have flaws. Cameron...had flaws.

John was caught up in his own thoughts and didn't answer. When she looked cross, he mumbled something under his breath.

"So this is where you came from?"

"More or less. You've seen that time timeline has changed in your absence. You've met your father." She kneeled down to him, placing one hand on his shoulder. "You've taken a tremendous risk."

He knew that much but given events could hardly think of a reply. "I just..."

She stopped him. "You are very brave John, you always have been. I never met you in my future, I'm glad I'll get the chance to know you now." She said.

"So what now?"

"You're John Connor. What do you think?"

"You mean, give you an order?"

Catherine let slip a cool chuckle. "I didn't say that. I'm not here taking orders from you, you know."

"Then whose side are you on?"

"Maybe I'm on my own side. Have you ever thought of that?" She offered.

Honestly he had not. "Well, we have to get back somehow, don't we?"

Catherine nodded. "That would be preferable. But John, it may be harder than you realize to return to your time. What you've done has changed the flow of history. When you change the timeline, it becomes difficult to predict. There is no way of knowing how this timeline will interact with our own. I hope you realize that." She paused before continuing. "There is also the possibility we may not be able to return."

John froze. That was one possibility that he had not taken into account. "What?" She couldn't mean that.

Catherine elaborated. "SkyNET took certain steps during our timeline when John Connor was the leader of the resistance. It did certain things just because of you. Time travel was something it had been working on, just for you."

"Oh my god." The realization dawned on him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You mean...it developed time travel to kill me. Without me..."

"No time travel, no returning to the past." She stared off down the tunnel as if she was listening for something. "I cannot stay long. All I can say is that we have to find John Henry. If we can find him, then we can begin to make our way home. He has all the information we need."

"He has her." John said.

Catherine gave him a knowing look, one that took John by surprise. "Yes, he has your cyborg. Or rather, her chip. Whatever body she had is long gone by now, I'll almost guarantee it."

"Shit." That part he had figured out for himself, but he didn't like to think about it.

"But those can be replaced. One of the advantages of being a cyborg, all you have to do is find the correct spare parts. I do remember seeing a pretty young girl walking around here -"

"That is not happening. Whatever you're thinking of doing with her, that is not an option."

Catherine suffered the rebuke in silence, if she suffered it at all. "You have a choice to make John, and this is something you have to do on your own. John Henry is my mission and I'll spare nothing to find him. Cameron lies in that direction as well. You may very well be able to fight this future, to win against the machines, I'm not certain of the success of the resistance in this timeline." There were other, less pleasant options floating in the air, possibilities she didn't have to mention.

He had to think about his own survival first, before finding Cameron or the more ludicrous task of traveling back in time. He wasn't any good dead. "The name John Connor doesn't seem to carry much weight around here."

"It still does with me." She said. John looked at her, noticing the faint smile that had formed on her lips. "Will you Join us?"

She offered him a hand, though he wasn't sure if he should take it. There were a millions reasons why not, a million reasons to stay and fight. Maybe this was what he was supposed to do, maybe this was the way the future panned out. Those arguments faded as he took her hand, gripping it tightly. It felt cold, but her grip was firm and she seemed pleased.

"John Connor, at your service."

The smile faded from her face and for a moment he was certain that she was going to run him through, that it had all be just a ruse. Then he realized that her expression had changed not to one of danger but one of satisfaction.

"Thank you John. Be warned, this road is hard. There are dark times ahead, things I cannot predict or control." She released his grip and he felt sorry to feel it go. Strange though it may sound this terminator was the only friend he had here. She was his ally, not his protector, and he realized that they would be together from now on forward, for better or for worse.

"So now what?" He broke the silence.

"I have to locate John Henry. He arrived before we did, that much I am certain of. Where he's going - that is a secret that he alone knows. I'll track him and meet you back here at dusk tomorrow. Until then, keep yourself safe. The future can be a dangerous place, for man and machine alike."

Catherine Weaver began to decompose into a puddle, but not before she said three words:

"I'll be back."

With that she was gone, a silver streak racing through the tunnels and out into the world. John was alone again, but this time his thoughts kept him company. He laid back down and began to think. His mind was a mess of thoughts and actions, possibilities and probabilities. He had to think like a time-traveler. It was all to fantastic to be true, yet here he was, trying to sleep under the skies of post-apocaliptia.

Eventually he did drift off. He dreamed of crimson skies and metal death. He dreamed of fires and the scorched earth. Somewhere in his mind was a single, silent black orb, sucking the life out of everything on earth. Thankfully he would remember none of this.

And he dreamed of Cameron.

**(*****)**

Derrick leaned back against the frame of the truck and took in the warm sunrise. For all its problems, for all the horrible things that went on in the world there was always the sunrise. Every day was a new day and maybe today they would find a way…

Nah, it would never be that easy.

For Derrick Reese, you got up every day, shook the sleep from your system and strapped your rifle to your back. If you were lucky you'd make it through to the next; if you weren't lucky there were a hell of a lot worse things than being dead.

Kyle was up already. Derrick heard him crawl out of the truck before he woke and rush off, probably to do his morning business. They parked under a concrete overhang in what used to be Los Angeles beneath the remains of a massive structure. Derrick thought it was a baseball or football stadium once, but he couldn't remember what the world looked like before the war unless he really tried. Sometimes it was better to forget.

Sinclair was there too, along with the new guy. Derrick wasn't sure if he liked Jake or not but he thought he'd give him every opportunity to make it. Just as long as he didn't get anyone killed but himself derrick wouldn't have a problem with it.

Kyle surprised him, tapping his shoulder.

"Morning." He said.

Derrick grunted.

"Time to make the call?"

"I guess." He picked up the radio and phoned home, like they did every morning.

"San Diego station this is recon north, from Los Angeles over." Derrick spoke into the microphone.

A moment passed before a familiar voice came through on the other end of the line. "Morning Reese. Glad to see you made it another night. What's the report from L.A.?"

"General? Is that you?"

"One and only."

"Well, things are quiet up here. We ran across a few endo's to the south of here just a bit before dark. Dispatched with no problem. Troop movements are centered around Encinitas. Lots of them, maybe a few drops worth of endoskeletons. They've been there for a few days now."

"Noted. Anything else interesting happen yesterday?"

Kyle giggled. "Tell him about John Connor." He said, sounding as serious as he could.

"What? God, what for? You think he wants to hear about some tunnel rat that stole your jacket? What makes you think he'll care."

Kyle brushed him off. "You're such a fucking downer. It's funny."

"You want to tell him? Here. It's stupid."

"Tell me what?" Derrick had been holding the transmit button for some time, apparently.

"Well, it's just kind of a funny story Sir." Kyle began. "We were in the tunnels yesterday afternoon and we ran across this tunnel rat – naked as the day he was born. Stole my jacket. He seemed to know me and Derrick though."

There was a paused across the wire before the General answered. "Naked huh? Well, I've heard stranger things. This kid have a name?"

"John Connor."

This time the silence was more prolonged. When the General came back his voice was this strange mixture of excitement and laughter. "What did this kid look like?"

"I dunno, pretty plain. Teenager you know, probably no older than twenty. Skinny, clean. Real clean, like he hadn't been down there long."

"Now you listen, both of you. I'm terminating your current mission and giving you a new one. Do you remember where you found him?" The General responded quickly.

Kyle thought about it. "Yeah, right around 53rd and Alamo in the main sewer line."

"Okay, good. You are to proceed back there and retrieve this boy and bring him to me. He is to be brought to San Diego bunker alive as soon as possible. Is that understood?"

Kyle was stunned. "Well, I guess but…I mean, all he did was steal my jacket. I got it back so –"

"I don't give a shit about your jacket Reese. I want John Connor in San Diego bunker tonight as sundown."

Derrick took the mic back. "There something we should know about this guy? Rogue resistance fighter? He isn't a grey is he? He won't make it back to base if you send us to get him."

"He'd better. He's on our side Derrick, he just doesn't know it yet. Sundown, my office, good luck gentlemen. Ellison out."

Derrick looked at his little brother. "Great idea. God dammit…"

"Wonder if he's still even there?" Kyle said.

"Get Young on the line. She stayed behind; she might be able to find him ahead of time. I'll get Sinclair and Jake. No more radio for you Kyle."


	2. Chapter 2

John woke to the sound of someone rummaging around near him. He opened his eyes slowly and was could see sunlight carving shafts from the shadows. Apparently the sunrise still worked, and the future had a tomorrow. He got up and stretched. There were a few people, most of them already awake. One of them was looking at him - and she caught his eye right away.

She looked like her, not just in a passing way but in a precise way, the same feeling you might get looking into a photograph. This was Cameron. She was eating something, casting occasional glances out of the corner of her eye. She had been watching him.

Before he had given it any thought he sat down near her on his haunches. The resemblance was uncanny and for a moment what that meant slipped from his mind. They had even gotten the eyes right - those curious brown orbs that seemed to look and know at the same time.

"I'm John." He said, holding out his hand.

She smiled, taking his hand in her own. She was beautiful in a way that he had never noticed, and instantly he thought that perhaps he hadn't been looking hard enough. "I remember you John Connor. I'm Alison." She said his name as if he were really important. He tried not to notice.

Without knowing it, he held her in his gaze for a moment. It was only when she looked away with a slightly reddening face that he did as well.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Do you see something you like John?"

Suddenly he realized what he was doing and looked away. "You just… Well, you look a lot like someone I know. It's a long story."

"Oh?" This made her smile.

"Yeah." He dared not elaborate.

"Want some?" She held out her breakfast, what looked like a pack of preserved food that looked almost edible. John wondered where she got it. He didn't wonder because he wanted more for himself, just because he felt pity for a moment. Had this girl lived like this for her entire life? The future was unkind, he knew. It seemed only more so that it be unkind to this creature before him, beautiful as she was.

He knew she was not alone in her suffering, and the thought brought him a sort of bitter comfort.

"Thanks." He took a bite and moved closer to her, folding his knees up to his chest.

"You're awfully clean."

He laughed a little, looking over at her and seeing sincerity. "What?"

"I don't see many people that look like they just stumbled out of a bathtub. You even smell nice. Where are you from, John Connor?" She called him by his full name as if to mock him. "Obviously somewhere where everyone knows who you are."

John nodded. "Something like that. I'm not from far away, actually, just haven't been back in a while."

She looked at him with her brow raised, a look he recognized immediately. "I see."

He had seen the look before on Cameron, almost the exact same look that seemed to say 'A cryptic answer deserves a cryptic look.' Suddenly he felt very silly.

This line of questioning could become awkward fairly quickly, or perhaps even dangerous. He decided to change the subject to something else, something less threatening.

"Well Allison, what's the story around here?"

"The story?" She seemed almost incredulous.

'Wait for it.' He thought to himself. 'Wait and see, you'll think I'm the crazy one.'

"Yeah, I mean how's the human race holding up, in your opinion?"

She laughed a little louder than she should have. "What are you talking about? Haven't you been outside lately?"

"Humor me, remember I'm new around here."

She regarded the question with a cautious eye, but tried to answer honestly.

"It's holding together. Mostly we just live, it's hard to do anything else. The machines hunt us if we go out at the wrong time. We try to fight but they're everywhere, they're into everything. But through it all, people have survived. But it makes you hard." She paused for a moment. "You don't seem like a hard man, John."

"I'm probably not."

Another cryptic response, and another raised eyebrow. "You really aren't from around here are you?"

He could only think to shake his head. "No, not for a long time."

She turned away from him and continued to eat, not paying him any heed. For a moment he thought he had offended her, and she would have every right. What man asks questions like that? No sane man, after everything that had happened. Not after you've lived through what they have.

"You seem nice John, it's nice to see someone who has hope around here. I haven't seen anyone like you in a long time. I always thought J-day burned humanity down to the bare essentials. I was afraid we'd lost hope in the fire."

"Judgment day."

"You're real bright, Connor."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to be dense." He tried to be tactful. "Do you remember it? What day it was? The date exact date?"

"I remember it, sure. Twelve, tweleve, tweleve. That was the day the first bombs went off."

"What?"

"December 12th, 2012. The day SkyNET destroyed the human race. There were warnings, but people didn't listen. People always have to learn the hard way."

"Seems that way. Maybe it was inevitable."

She gave him a strange look and soon he realized that she had all kinds of strange looks to give him. One for being clean, one for being an idiot and one for being a smartass. So he was an idiot, and a smartass, but at least his teeth were brushed and he smelled nice.

"So, are you in the resistance?"

She bit off a piece of whatever she was eating. After the first bite John was in no hurry for any more. Yet it occurred to him, sitting there that he could be in the future for a very long time. This wasn't going to be a day trip.

"Isn't everyone? Isn't every human on the face of the earth fighting SkyNET?"

John thought about it. She was right of course. The war for the survival of your species didn't have a draft or a civilian volunteer backbone. It wasn't the future that he came from, where a mother might choose to send their gifted son to Harvard and their eccentric daughter to Julliard. No, instead they would be giving little Tommy a plasma rifle and little Suzie a backpack bunker buster. Go fight the good fight kids, and try to come home in one piece. Welcome to the apocalypse.

"Okay, this will sound strange, but do you know what year it is?"

Allison thought it over. "Must be 2028. And it's no stranger than anything else you've asked."

John rolled over a few answers in his head - not the truth per-se, but variations on a theme. In the end he settled for a smart-assed smirk. "Sorry if I seem dense, I'm just trying to get my bearings."

They talked for a little while, exchanging small pleasantries while dancing around the bigger questions that glowed like fireflies around them. This was Cameron - or at least, her template. The thought gave him a chill. Had Cameron killed her? John didn't know the answers, didn't want to know them. Somewhere along the line, SkyNET had picked out a beautiful young girl to be replaced. The thought was terrifying.

After a while, the conversation began to die down. John thought more about the war, and how it had unfolded in his absence. If not him, then who? So many questions.

"So, this may sound a little strange Alison..." He began.

This made her laugh. "John Connor, everything you have said sounds strange. In fact, I don't think I'll forget this conversation for the rest of my life."

"Good, that's fine. Just don't tell anyone if they ask. Don't want the teacher to know I've been sleeping in class."

"Do you know which end of the gun goes boom at least?"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Yeah, I got that much in school."

"School?"

"Well, you know, my mother taught me a lot."

"That's good, it's a start at least."

"Back to my question..."

She tilted her head and looked at him with a mocking grin.

"Who is in charge? I mean, who leads the resistance?"

This time she seemed genuinely surprised. "Where are you from again? You can't not know that, everyone knows him, people practically worship the ground he walks on."

"He sounds like a wonderful man."

"He is. Before JD he was a kook, but said he knew it was coming, like he had hints on the future. He predicted everything in his writings, the stuff is like gospel. Are you for real, you've never heard of him?"

John looked at her. "Look, it may seem hard to believe but…"

"Connor! Alison, get away from him. Just stay there Connor."

"Holy shit." It was all he could think to say.

Alison looked down the hall and spotted a familiar face striding toward her. Derrick Reese was there with Kyle in tow. They were both armed with what looked to be rifles of some sort, both wore sidearm's that could stop a raging bull. Derrick had his eyes on John and gave him a look that he didn't find reassuring.

Derrick pulled up beside the two of them, his arms crossed and his lower lip stuck out just a little, as if sucking on it helped his thinking process.

"You, you said your name was John Connor right?"

John had a hard time eking out a smile. The last time he had seen Derrick Reese he had been dead on the floor, blood pooling around him, eyes open. One shot, right to the frontal lobe was all it took.

"John Connor, you're him right? Answer me."

"Yeah, yeah that's me. I'm John Connor. Who wants to..."

"Lucky you then. Come on."

(*****)

Derrick pulled John up from his semi-crouch, tugging on his arm hard enough to let him know that this was business, not personal. John breathed a little easier – someone, somewhere knew him enough to send Derrick. That was good, wasn't it? When he really got to thinking about it, however, he had the sinking feeling that this was no cordial visit. Before leaving the tunnels he turned and gave one last look over his shoulder.

'Where the hell is Weaver when you need her...'

The sun was bearing down on them already, and John had to hold his hands over his eyes. As the world came into focus he wanted to retreat back underground. He was in a city, which one he couldn't tell, but it felt familiar.

This was the wasteland.

Ruined towers of concrete and steel leaned against the sky, crumbling in the daylight. The streets were clogged with rubble, cars and any other manner of filler. There were no people. John looked around quickly, taking stock of the area. Nothing moved here, nothing lived here.

"Come on, stop dragging your feet." Derrick gave him another tug, this time Kyle joined him on the other side.

"Do what he says, move quickly. We can't stay out in the light very long. Move, John!" Kyle pulled harder than Derrick and seemed to be in even more of a hurry.

John looked at Alison and the other two. She walked between them with her firearm at the ready. Looking closely he was fairly sure the safety was off. Unlike the others, she looked him in the eyes. John wished she wouldn't.

The tall one was Sinclair, he'd heard the name. He was skinny and had an even tan all across his chest but didn't seem to have enough muscle mass to lift the machine gun he was carrying. The other, he hadn't caught his name yet, was much the opposite. He was squat and fair skinned with arms as big around as your thigh. Neither of them looked friendly.

There were roughshod vehicles parked not far away under a craggy overhang of what used to be a tall building. Now the structure was a burned out shell with steel spires protruding upwards like the ribs of some maimed animal. They got to the cars and lifted the doors open (aftermarket modifications, no doubt) and dropped John in the back seat.

"Come on. Jake, you and Young get the crawler. Sinclair, get on the turret. Come on, we're on a timetable here. Patrols will be back quick."

There was a smattering of 'Yes, lieutenants' and even an 'Affirmative' as they all loaded into their vehicles. John felt like he was in a sardine can. The back seat was dark despite the sun being so bright. The doors were really just sheets of scrap metal, welded into plates and bolted onto the frame for protection. There were narrow slits that let in the light and were just wide enough to stick the barrel of a rifle from.

"Don't you think I should get a gun? I mean, if we're going outside…" He asked.

Derrick laughed. "No."

Kyle turned around to elaborate. "Don't trust you enough to give you one. Nothing personal. Just stay down, the ride will be short and quick."

"Where are we going?"

"San Diego bunker, about a half hours ride from here." Kyle said.

"Where is here?"

Kyle and Derrick shared an incredulous look. "Welcome to sunny southern California! Woo!" Derrick slammed his foot on the gas and stroked the ignition, and in a flash they were speeding down the city streets with the sun in their face, engines roaring.

The cars swerved around boulders and sinkholes at a frantic pace. The decay around them provided infinite firing lines, and Kyle scanned the rooftops and high angles for movement while his brother hammered the accelerator. John began to wonder if the car had any brakes, or any suspension for that matter. He bounced around in the back several times nearly spilling into the front seat. Derrick put his elbow in his face, pushing him back.

"Hey, I'm driving. Sit." This was almost polite.

John looked behind them. The crawler was slower but whoever was driving it – he thought it was probably Alison – was far more careful. They kept up by moving more gracefully around the curves, dodging the big debris and generally taking the path of least resistance. He wished he was riding back there.

"Coming up on the dip, hold on." Derrick said. A moment later John was thrown up to the roof as the back of the car lurched upwards. He stayed up in the air long enough for him to see exactly where he would come back down, right over the seat bevel. The floor rushed up to greet him, and he heard the crunching of metal on metal.

"Man I love that hill." Derrick said.

Kyle was less enthusiastic. His rifle had fallen into the backseat at some point during the bump. "Jesus slow down." He looked around for his gun. "John can you hand me that?"

He did as he was asked, thankful someone wasn't treating him like he was a piece of luggage. As he handed the rifle forward there were three quick raps on the roof.

"Up ahead! Go left!" Sinclair was on their car, riding in the gunners spot. John could hear what sounded like weapons fire, but not like any gun he had ever heard. He wasn't firing bullets. The mounted gun made a sound like hammering on sheet metal and John could see red tracers flying through the air.

Kyle looked out the window and got on the radio. "Alison, six hundred up here to your right. Don't know if he sees you yet."

The rapid fire continued from above. John could feel the heat from the gun radiating into the cabin. Seconds later there was another sound. He recognized this one – automatic gunfire, sharp and loud. He wondered who was shooting at whom. Sometimes you just shouldn't ask.

The car was peppered with rounds, filling the air with the sound of a dozen angry hammers. John ducked down as close to the seat as he could. He watched the side panel flex as it stopped a barrage of rounds only inches from his face. Then, quiet. Just as quickly as it had begun, the fireworks stopped.

"First kill!"

"Ahh shit!" Derrick swore as loud as he could. He snatched the radio from his brother. "Sinclair says he got first, tell me he didn't."

Alison came back to him over the radio, her voice filled with mirth. "Saw it with my own eyes. Good shooting up there."

"Dammit." Derrick handed the radio back to Kyle.

"Every dog has his day." Kyle sighed. "He was due."

"I don't hear a thank you!" Sinclair said from up above, slapping his hand on the roof.

"Yeah, thank you, keep it to yourself." Derrick said. John recognized the look on his face – he often saw the same look when he was dealing with his mother.

"What was that?" John asked.

"Six hundred. Scout, probably. We'll have to take another road if they know we're on this one." Kyle spoke half to Derrick, half to John, yelling over the sound of the engine.

"Guess that means we can't take the freeway. Get on the radio and tell Alison."

Kyle did as he was told. "Alison, we're going to take the tunnel road, you follow?" He waited for a moment. "Copy tunnel road." Still, there was no response.

John tried looking out behind them but the dust kicked up off the dry road made it hard to see. The crawler was nowhere to be seen, even on the straight-aways. The road seemed to be clear for at least a quarter of a mile.

"Hey, I don't think they're back there."

Kyle's checked behind them, hanging his head out the window. "Shit!" He said, barely audible over the wind. "Turn around."

"Here we go!" John learned that this was code for a Derrick maneuver and held on tightly. He looked up at Sinclair who seemed to have no problems holding on even as the car spun its wheels into a turn, coming in a half arc until it was headed back the way it came. John peeled himself from the door panel once again.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Kyle said. He was checking out his rifle and trying to look calm but John could see the worry etched on his face.

"Not far back. Just as we passed the six hundred." John said. "Give me something to shoot with! I'm no use to you without a gun."

Derrick stuck his head in the back seat. "I'm really sick of hearing you say that." He looked at Kyle as if to give him a warning. "No guns. Not unless we're really in the shit, got it?"

"Yeah I got it, just drive Derrick."

The elder Reese did and John sat back in his seat, dejected. He thought it made sense though, in a soldiers way. You don't just meet someone and hand them a gun, particularly not when they're spending an entire trip sitting behind you. He felt a stab of anger and then self pity but quickly shed both of these. Somewhere behind them Alison and her companion had gotten sidetracked. Everyone in the car hoped it wasn't a permanent derailment.

(*****)

When Alison began to wake up her head felt murky and slow. She tried to open her eyes only to see the dark and as soon as her sensation returned she feared the worst. Her hands flew up to her eyes to make sure she still had them. Was she blind?

No, she was under something. There was sound around her, most of it muffled. She began to remember where she had been; driving, following Derrick as he ran roughshod down the canyons of old Los Angeles. Jake had been next to her, yelling at her…

Where was he? She listened for his voice but heard nothing. There was a high pitched whine coming from somewhere up above her and she finally realized where she was. She was still in the crawler. The steering column was jammed over her thighs, pinning her to the seat, but she felt like she hadn't broken anything. The steering wheel was holding her in the seat, and she was dangling upside down.

Slowly she tried to slide her butt off the seat and when she did, she fell onto the roof. There was light now coming from up above, through the floor panels that had been under her feet. There was something soft next to her, warm and wet. She muffled a cry as she felt a human face. It was Jake.

"Jake! Jake are you okay? Talk to me. Oh my god." She felt his face, and felt the warmth of his body spreading out below her. Her hands traveled down below, under his chin. There was a wound there and her fingers felt the torn flesh.

"Dammit dammit dammit…" She felt for a pulse but realized without seeing that the wound was so severe that he was already gone. "Jake, I'm sorry." She whispered.

Soldiers of the resistance have moments after the death of a comrade, where they take heart that the deceased lived well. That they would continue the fight in the absence of the fallen comrade. Alison had no time for such a moment. Whatever had killed Jake and destroyed the crawler would be back soon, if it had not already found her.

She tried to right herself in the cramped space and put her face near the source of light. When she did at first she could see nothing. The sun blotched everything out and her eyes needed to adjust. When she finally did adjust she saw that there was a shallow bank nearby. She could see the tread marks where they had rolled down, and she saw something that made her heart sink.

The portable radio was there, tossed into the brush. She didn't remember the crash but knew that whatever it had been had likely knocked her out. She was in the driver's seat. Alison wondered why she wasn't dead, the driver was usually the preferred target. Luck, or fate, saves the day.

She scanned for movement up above but saw none save for the windblown brush. She listened closely for any sound, no matter how faint. What she heard made her stomach churn.

Alison saw the first endoskeleton poke its head down over the embankment. Does it see the crawler? Of course it does, these things are smart. It was the one who shot at them. She recoiled as she saw the second standing next to the first, slightly behind and to the left. She was in trouble. They were eight-fifties. Two of them. They were looking for something.

The eight-fifty series chassis represents the edge of SkyNET's manufacturing capacity. Sure, there are smarter terminators. The triple eights are more effective infiltrators, the eight hundreds are cheaper and more cost effective. But when it comes to brute force the eight-fifty cannot be matched. They're heavy but fast, strong but agile. When you encounter one the best advice is what gets you as far away as quickly as possible.

To her horror, she realized that the radio was still on and working. She heard Kyle's voice calling out to her and she knew that they heard it too. They were coming down the slope.

"Alison? Alison can you hear me?" He clicked off the radio. "Drive faster." Kyle told his brother.

"We're about there, just hold on. Relax." Derrick said the words but both Kyle and John could sense the tremble in his voice. These people were his responsibility. He had to get them back.

"You see anything Sinclair?" Kyle stuck his head out the window as the vehicle slowed.

"Nothin'. Not a damned thing."

Kyle swore again and spoke into the radio, hoping without cause to hear back from her, from Jake, from both of them. They heard only static.

Alison watched, terrified, as the eight-fifties approached the radio. They stopped for a moment and listened to the conversation, each of them taking in a mechanical satisfaction. More would be coming for these two. They would kill them as well. It was what they did.

They approached the overturned crawler and Alison curled herself into a small ball. She tried to hold her breath. She could hear their footsteps down the mountain, heavy and deliberate on the ground. She saw the light overhead flicker and knew they would find her, it was only a matter of time. She knew there was a gun in the cabin but to reach for it now was certain death. The machines could hear anything this close, especially amplified by the metallic body of her tomb. She put her eyes down and waited.

The strangest thing happened. Nothing.

She expected, at the very least, to be ventilated by the endo firing its rifle into the belly of the vehicle, finishing off anyone who may be inside. She wouldn't have been surprised if one ripped the floor plates off and tossed them aside, lifting her up by the neck and finishing her by hand. There were many ways to die, some less pleasant than others but the strangest thing was that none of them happened.

It took her a minute to figure out why. She could hear something. A sound grew outside that filled her with hope and dread. It sounded like Derrick, and god forbid it sounded like Kyle. They were here.

Her first instinct was to cry out to them. They had to know the endos' were down there. If they got the drop on them, they'd all be dead. Hopefully they were smarter than that. She knew they were, but still, they needed luck.

She had to make noise. She screamed out to them, not knowing if they could hear her or not and not really caring.

"Kyle! Derrick get away! There're two endos' at the bottom of the hill! They know you're here!" She called out as loudly as she could, pushing her hands into the ceiling, pounding her palms on the plated steel. They just had to hear her.

And they did. Derrick heard her first, he was closest to the embankment and when he poked his head over he saw the two endoskeletons regarding the crawler with a sort of disdain. He knew why - Alison wasn't a threat, trapped inside. Once they dealt with whoever she was talking to they would come back and finish the job.

"Kyle! Big eights! Get to the turret!" Derrick screamed.

Kyle heard his brother loud and clear, turning to Sinclair. "You heard him! Get ready. John, stay in there!"

John heard all of this but wasn't about to stay anywhere. These men seemed afraid, almost panicked. He heard Sinclair breathing above him, his feet shifting from side to side.

The eight-fifties crested the hill and wasted no time. Each one carried a single endorifle - a high powered energy weapon carried by SkyNET troops, powered by their own internal nuclear power sources. They laid down a spread of fire no one could hope to escape. John was almost certain that he'd been killed, but when he looked around he saw three holes in the roof where the projectiles had passed through. They left glowing, smoking rings in the metal.

The sound of standard rifles came from outside, somewhere to the west where he knew they had found Alison. John thought for a moment and then threw caution into the wind. They might not think much of him but that didn't matter. He knew he could be useful, if he could just get outside...

He opened the hatch on the far side of the car and fell immediately to the ground, scrambling as he felt something fall into his face. It was Sinclair. The first salvo had downed the man, cutting him cleanly in two. John shuddered as he got up. There was no choice really. He would have to move the body one piece at a time.

While he was deciding which half to move, the firefight was going strong in the background. Sinclair hadn't even seen them coming and now the endoskeletons had Kyle and Derrick cut off from one another. Kyle was on the far side, making his way through broken concrete and steel rebar, trying to stay a step ahead of the terminator that trailed him. Derrick was faring no better. He rolled down the hill to the crawler, losing his grip on his rifle in the process. The endoskeleton would still shoot him, of course, armed or not.

John coaxed the corpse to the ground, feeling a little nauseous as Sinclair spilled out onto the ground. Spilled was the right word. John had never seen so much blood or so many parts just spread out all over the place. He got up to the gun and put his hand on the action. There was no trigger.

"How do you fire this thing?" He said aloud.

Derrick must have heard him, or at least seen the look on his face. "Push the button! Push the damned button!"

"Oh, I see it." And so he pushed it.

The gun fired into the ground, catching everyone by surprise, including the user.

"Whoa, wow that was hot." John turned the gun down hill and took aim against the endoskeleton, sighting it in as well as he could.

Derrick seemed to sense impending disaster and dove to the ground, covering his head. The endoskeleton turned to face John and wasted no time opening the exchange before John had gotten a shot off. John pushed the button, letting white hot plasma fly down the hill.

The turret fired in a wide spread, seeming to hit everything accept the terminator before he finally figured out how to aim it. It seemed off a little, maybe high and to the right. These things didn't matter. John Connor bore down on his target and let fly.

The endoskeleton went down in a smoking heap. The eight-fifties may be tough, but even they were vulnerable to this kind of hardware. John scored direct hits all over the place. He saw pieces of the torso fly off in one direction, and the skull split in two.

"Hey Derrick, I got him! Woo!" He said, mimicking Derricks battle cry.

"John get down!"

He turned to the right just in time to see the one that had been chasing Kyle emerge from the debris field. Its gun was already up. John could think of nothing else, so he went into a controlled fall off the back of the car, smashing into the ground as arcs of plasma streaked overhead.

This unplanned move gave Kyle the opening he needed. Facing one of those things up close was a very bad idea, particularly if it was fixed on you. It was looking at John now as the highest threat target. Kyle stepped down into a kneeling position and leveled his rifle at the base of its hyperalloy skull, squeezing the trigger.

The first few shots seemed to have no effect, but after the sixth or seventh round one of the control rods broke free from its rotational housing, followed by another. With the housing exposed, several of the projectiles entered into the core electrical housing near the chip. The endoskeleton staggered forward before falling to the ground.

For a moment he wasn't sure if it was over or not. His head hurt like nothing before, and he was coughing up a fit. The fall knocked the wind out of his lungs and John was having a hell of a time getting it back. He coughed, pulling his arms up to his sides, trying to get his head to stop throbbing long enough to put a complete thought together.

The next thing he knew Derrick was standing over him, shaking his head.

"Damn, I guess I owe you one." He said, offering a hand to John.

"Thanks."

He pulled John up with one strong arm. "Thanks to you. You saved our asses, big time."

"Sorry about Sinclair."

Derrick let out a sigh. "Yeah, I am too. Dumb bastard should have ducked." His voice belied the tragedy of his death and John was certain that once you had buried enough people, it became mundane. He hoped it wouldn't ever be that way for him.

"Where's Kyle, and Alison?"

"He's getting her. We'll all be in one car, the crawlers busted all to hell."

As if on cue, Alison reached the top of the hill as Kyle held her arm and guided her along. She had a gash on her forehead and seemed a little wobbly on her feet but aside from that, she wasn't any worse for wear.

"You alright?"

She only nodded, still trying to shake the cobwebs loose.

"Jake?"

She shook her head.

He put on a resigned face, one that he wore all too well. "Well, Sinclair is down too. We'll have to move on, can't stay any longer."

Both Alison and Kyle nodded at the suggestion. They would have to leave the dead to the tomb of the world. Waiting here meant waiting to die. This was the truth John heard in their words.

"Get in." Derrick said.

Alison refused. "I'll drive."

"Thank god." Kyle and John both breathed out, and Derrick gave them both a hurt look.

"You sure? You look like hell."

"I'll look worse if you drive. I've seen how it is with you, Reese." That was his name when he was in trouble.

"You never call Kyle, Reese."

"I do, just not when you're around. Means different things." She explained.

"I see. Well, I'll get on turret. Don't want John showing me up twice in one day."

They smiled at this, and John took it as a thank you, albeit a muted one. He went to sit down when Kyle grabbed his arm. "My seat. You're in the back."

"Ah, come on, that's not..."

"Get in the back." Derrick said.

John turned to Alison but found no help there either. "You can sit on Kyle's lap."

He rode in back.


	3. Chapter 3

Their journey continued through the wasteland of northern San Diego, taking them south along a well-worn path that ran in parallel against the old highway. The road was cluttered with cars just as it had been on Judgment day. When the bombs fell the people inside had been turned to ash. Though cruel, their fate was certainly no more cruel than what the people of today faced twenty-four-seven.

He wondered if anyone that had lived envied those that had not. Was it better to die in the fire or face life against an army of unrelenting determination, of unreal cunning? The picture in his mind was forming but for now remained incomplete. As he sat back in the seat, feeling the car bounce along the rubble-strewn path he felt a certain pity for them and a certain resentment for himself.

He had missed the fire.

The San Diego bunker was really a compound that sprawled across several blocks of the old city. John could see towers from a distance and noted their roughly human feel as if they had been constructed from whatever was laying around. They had to be man made. They were perches for the resistance. From there they could watch the ruined city and defend their front gate. It sounded like a dangerous job.

The base was surrounded by surprisingly well-built concrete walls. They were about six or seven meters high and very thick. He imagined that it would take nothing short of another nuke going off to uproot them. Autocannons guarded the battlements. Whatever was inside, he was certain that he was safer there than out here.

The entrance was a lock and hold type where one would pass a vehicle into a holding cell. John heard something about X-rays and magnetometers and Geiger counters. They were being inspected. You couldn't be too careful these days.

Once they let the car pass through the first set of locks they were still one door away. This was the real kicker. John imagined you could blast your way through the first one, it really wasn't anything special. It was a steel slab hung on rails that slid along outstretched rails and wobbled in the wind. The interior door was where the action was. As they entered the second chamber he could see guards above with rifles leveled at all of them. There had to be at least a half dozen guns on them right now, enough so that there was at least one for each of them.

For all of this, Derrick and Kyle didn't look at all put off. He saw Derrick give a hand signal to someone up above, and then saw a small steel door open through his hidden vantage point.

A single, massive man stepped out. John knew instantly that he was not human. He carried a rotary cannon the size of a man's thigh and poked it in the window as if he was the morning paper.

"Name."

"Alison Young, San Diego command scout unit. I.D. sierra foxtrot 5589."

"Voice print authorized. Welcome home, Alison Young."

She gave him a curt smile and the ritual continued. Derrick was next, then Kyle. The machine looked in the back at John, tapping the barrel of his weapon on the door plating.

"Step out."

"Do it. Don't worry." Alison said.

He lifted the door and stood face to face with it, or face to chest. Damn this thing was tall. His shoulders seemed to spread out forever and he could imagine the workings inside, the mechanical servos and drive motors that gave this quasi-human artificial life.

"Name."

"John. Connor." He said.

The machine came down to his eye level. "I don't know you." He pulled a small device from his pocket and pointed it at John's eyes. There was a brief flash of red light, leaving John blinded for just a moment. The machine seemed to regard this task with a sort of interest John found odd. He looked at the soldiers in the car. "You vouch for this boy?"

Alison nodded. Kyle said 'yes'. Derrick grunted something. John wasn't sure if it was 'Sure' or 'Please take him off our hands.'

"Human, male Caucasian, John Connor. You have a mild concussion. When you have time please see Solé in medical." He stepped back and made a motion for John to re-enter the vehicle.

"Your vehicle is cleared for entry. Welcome to San Diego, enjoy your stay and obey all posted laws and signs."

The machine stepped away and John returned to his seat, glad to be done with whatever had just happened. The interior door, a steel slab that looked like it was three feet thick, rolled open and the interior of the base opened to them.

"Who was that?"

"Perry." All three of them answered.

He took one look back before the door sealed shut behind him. Perry was still looking at him. He hadn't put the gun down. John doubted if he ever did.

John was surprised to see the inside rather bustling with activity. The staging area of the base was filled with people, most of them in uniforms similar to the ones worn by his traveling companions. The yard was littered with debris but most of it was piled in the corners, high stacks of busted concrete and ruined equipment leaning against the walls.

Alison pulled them into some sort of garage where they disembarked. They had traveled light and didn't have much to unload; only a few guns and their scant supplies. Derrick took his rifle and his pack and brushed by John without a word.

"Get the blood off this thing." He told a pit mechanic. "And get it ready to go out again. Think there's something up with the suspension in the back. It's a little rough."

John didn't really know what to do, but now seemed like a good time to re-inquire about the purpose of his flight across the wasteland.

"So, I never really got the word on why I'm here."

Derrick was still standing nearby. "You're here because the General wants you here."

"The General?"

"My C.O. He says get you, so we do, and I lose two guys along the way. So you must be pretty damned important." He left the garage with that and John thought it best not to pursue.

"Don't worry John." Kyle said from behind him. "I mean, he's got a short memory. We're just grunts, doing what we're told. Sometimes people die. It's not often we get to save a life." Kyle was looking over the cannon on the back of the car. "How'd you like this thing?"

"It was alright. Gets awful hot."

"Yeah, can't fire it full out or the barrel will melt. You did good though." He seemed to think for a moment before continuing. "Solé is the doc, she's real good. Go see her; she's past alpha ring in medical. Can't miss it." Kyle moved to follow Alison out of the garage.

"Wait…am I just supposed to go there? What happens next?"

"That's up to the General. He seemed real interested in getting you down here, now we go tell him we're back. Don't worry about it; just don't run off, okay? Go let the doc take a look at you."

The main fortifications of San Diego bunker were arranged in three loose rings, from outside to inside being echo, bravo and alpha towards the center. They were individually fortified and sustainable, he learned. Echo held the grunts and bunks, a slang way of saying the least essential people, the civilians and anyone else lucky enough to find themselves on this side of the wall. Bravo ring was deeper into the compound and existed half underground and half above. John felt like he was walking into a bazaar as he passed through Bravo ring, with literally dozens of places to eat and drink, places to get laid and places to get on your knees and pray. If there was a city of the future, he guessed Bravo ring was it.

Alpha ring wasn't like the others. Where the others had semi-civilian themes about them, even the grunts and bunks, Alpha ring was all business. You had to have passes to get in, the first of which was the balls of steel to ask two terminators for permission to go through their door. John nervously approached the only entrance he could see, trying not to lock eyes with the imposing machines standing guard.

"I need to go to the doc..uhh Solé, that is."

"Name?" Same question as before, same tone. John put two and two together.

"John Connor."

The man reached behind him and opened the door. "You're on my list and have access to the clinic only. Walk down this hallway and stop at the guard station at the bottom of the ramp. Give them your name or you will be shot until dead. If they let you in…" The guard stressed the if, as if they might not feel like it. "…They will direct you further. Please attend to all business in this visit, you are not authorized for re-entry. You have one hour. If you do not check out in that time I will come looking for you. If I find you in alpha ring after that time, you will be shot until dead." He pushed some unseen button behind him and the door whooshed open like he was walking onto the Starship Enterprise.

Before John was three feet past the door on the other side, it slid shut. It took him a moment to adjust to the darkness. The walkway sloped downwards at a fair angle, taking him down at least a few meters in his first fifty feet of walking. The hallway was dimly lit and long with no windows or doors – just a straight shot down into the bowels of the base.

He ran his fingers along the wall and was surprised to see how smooth it felt. It was like solid stone that had been carved into an arch. Did people do this? It was hard to imagine this kind of construction happening after Judgment day. He put the question in his back pocket and continued down.

The intersection at the bottom of the ramp was just as the machine had said it would be. There was a checkpoint guarded by two large rotary cannons, their barrels black with soot. A woman stood near them, her gaze fixed directly upon him.

"John Connor." He offered this time without being asked.

She took a look at him and lifted one arm. "First door on the left. Stay to the left, go nowhere else."

Medical was denoted by a single large red cross above an open arch. It was a small, clean room but not so clean he would want to be here for a long time. It smelled like rubber tubing and blood. The floors were neatly scrubbed and John wondered how often they had to clean up. He thought of Sinclair and entered.

The room was empty. John glanced around, noting the blood on the floor. The room smelled like blood and bleach. There were baskets of crimson gauze and a few makeshift beds.

"Is there anyone here?" He called out. Since he'd traveled beneath the surface the hair on his arms and neck had been standing up. He had chills running down his spine and he wasn't sure he wanted to stay any longer, regardless of his injury. He felt just fine, just needed to get some sleep.

"Who are you?"

John spun on his heels. Somehow, someone had snuck up behind him. Whoever it was had cats feet. She was standing only a few feet from him, a beautiful woman with caramel skin and faintly Asian features.

"I uhhh..." He wouldn't be John Connor without the awkward introduction.

"This is the hospital. Are you injured?" She had a strange accent. It was faintly English but with a sort of casual twang that he found pleasant.

"I'm John." He started with what he was sure of. "I guess, the guy at the front sent me down here. I hit my head."

This seemed to be all she needed. She pulled him into a nearby room and sat him on the bed. She slapped a blood pressure cuff on him and took his temperature. She pulled his head close to her and ran her fingers through his hair on the back of his head. He realized he was very, very close to her breasts and had to resist the urge to stare down her smock.

"Head in the game, John." He said.

"What game?" She asked.

"Nothing, just talking to myself."

"Do you do that a lot? Or is that something that's happened since you hit your head?"

"I do it all the time." He said, instantly regretting it.

If she cared she didn't seem to notice. Her fingers found the goose egg on the back of his scalp, pressing into it with a strength belied by her physique. She looked at his blood pressure, took the thermometer and read it.

"So how bad is it?" He asked.

"You'll live for now." She said. "What happened?"

"I fell back off a car. Backwards."

"You should be more careful."

"I was being shot at."

"Like I said." Her lips didn't smile but John could hear one on her voice. "You'll be fine, just lay down a little early tonight if you can. The human body is an amazing machine. It'll recover."

John thought that was a strange way to put it, but he found himself nodding in agreement.

He told her he would take the advice and run with it, lay down early, no alcohol, and he promised himself to try to find somewhere soft to sleep if he could. He thought a king sized bed would probably be out of the question, but even something as soft as a rolled up jacket and a blanket would be an improvement over where he had been the previous night.

John was getting ready to walk out when she turned her head. "Someone is coming." She rushed to the arched doorway and listened again. "They've found him, thank god. You'll have to move, I need the bed."

He did as he was told, straining his own ears to listen for whatever she had heard. There was nothing, but then…

The voices echoed down the long hallway he had come down earlier and he could hear the angry sound of rusty wheels being rushed down the hallway. There were a few people, at least one man and one woman, yelling at one another.

A moment later a nondescript cart rolled around the corner. It was pushed by a man, and a woman walked quickly alongside it. The man and the woman wore regulation uniforms but John didn't recognize the other, he was wearing something else, something more plain. Whatever it was, it was soaked in blood.

"Bring him over here, quickly." Solé was at her table, unloading gauze and surgical tools from some hidden cache. The soldiers lifted the man onto the table. He was struggling with all his human strength but for some reason he was completely silent. The only sound coming from his lips was ragged breathing.

"Oh man…" John said, gazing at his wound.

He watched as she worked without saying a word. She didn't demand or insist, her eyes remained fixed on what she was doing without fail. The man on the table looked at her with terror. For some reason, though his wound looked severe he remained utterly silent. He simply had his eyes fixed on Solé while the other two held his hands at his sides. What were they doing?

"John are you still there?" Solé asked.

"Yes, I'm here." His voice was calm and even, surprising him.

"Come here, I need another pair of hands."

He did as he was told, coming to stand right next to her, shoulder to shoulder and awaited her orders. He saw her pressing into the man as he thrashed on the bed, still not making a sound. She was strong.

"Place your hand here, over this clamp and hold tightly. Do not let it slip." She guided his hand into his body, past his skin. John felt the warmth of flesh and tried to compose himself. He thought of other things, anything else would be better. In the end, he forced himself to look.

The wound was tremendous and John was amazed it hadn't killed him. He still seemed to have quite a bit of fight left in him in fact, as he struggled against the two that had brought him in. They held him fast though, each with a hand on his shoulder and another on his wrist. It looked like they were taking no cares to be gentle.

With one last burst of strength the man burst free from his captors. He reached for a trocar on the nearby table and with a flick of the wrist plunged it into the Doctors chest. John tried to stop him but his strength was unreal.

Sole took a step backwards and then lifted her head, a look of irritation on her face. She removed the trocar and let it fall to the floor. Once John and the others got control of him again she resumed her work, this time being far less gentle.

"Good, one moment while I insert this." She guided a long needle into his arm. This seemed to send him into a thrashing fit as he glared at the doctor. John thought he looked like he hated her, like he absolutely despised her. He tried to remember ever seeing this look on another man's face and came up empty.

Soon, the thrashing stopped and his eyes seemed to sink back into his head. The cords of muscle on his arms and shoulder went slack and his consciousness dissolved. Solé looked at him wearing a blank expression, then turned her attention to John.

"Thank you for your assistance." She was looking at him, but the others took this as their own queue to leave. John stepped back, unsure of what to do. Solé continued to work on the man as he slept.

"You're a terminator."

She tilted her head to one side but her face remained blank. "Yes, I am. Is that a problem? I can have another doctor treat you."

He thought about it, and the strange answer was "No, I just didn't suspect it. You seemed natural."

She looked pleased. "I have taken great lengths to blend in with my human compatriots. I have learned much from them."

John turned his gaze to the man on the table. His blood was all over his hands, up his arm, on his clothes. John wanted to wash it off, quickly. His hand felt sticky and sick.

"What's with this guy? I would expect something like that to hurt quite a bit."

Solé looked at him over her shoulder as she worked. "He's not one of us, if that's what you're getting at."

John wasn't sure what 'us' she was referring to. "You mean not a machine. I got that much."

"No, non-resistance human. Look." She held up his arm. Where there had been a hand covering before, there was a tattoo now. John could see it clearly. It was a bar code label capped with characters he couldn't decipher.

"A grey." She said.

"I don't know what that is." Whatever it was sounded unpleasant.

"Humans who work with SkyNET. Turncoats, less well liked than even myself I'm afraid." She said. "This one left our base some months ago with valuable intelligence. He left willingly and many people died because of him."

"Why didn't he scream?"

"SkyNET sometimes destroys the section of the brain that performs speech, rendering auditory communication impossible. This renders them less likely to reveal information if they are captured."

John cringed at the thought. "And he volunteered?"

"Some would rather be on the winning side, no matter the cost to themselves or others. This man is looked upon as less than human by the soldiers. Once we get what information we can from him, he'll be put to death."

It didn't surprise him but at the same time the thought of putting a man to death didn't sit easily within Johns mind. When someone makes that kind of betrayal, when the stakes are so high, he supposed there was no other punishment.

"You should go wash the blood off. There's a sink around the corner." She offered.

(*****)

A few hours had passed since his foray in medical. John wandered around the Bazaar and spent a little time chatting up the locals. He'd met a few people and found them pleasant but all the same he was relieved when Kyle came to find him.

John stood before the nondescript metal door and took in a big gulp of air. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to run away, to return to the sewer where he'd first come to this strange place. John wanted to go home. Here, he would likely learn things he wanted to avoid. Contained within were the secrets of the future, bold and terrible for all to see.

"Go in. He's expecting you." Kyle said.

He pushed the door open and stepped into a room shrouded in darkness save for the center where a single light shone. He waited for the others to follow but when he looked over his shoulder at them he realized that they'd be staying outside. He was going in alone. He stepped through the doorway, feeling a cool draft coming from somewhere. The door closed behind him and he stood for a moment, still and quiet.

"John Connor." The voice was vaguely familiar and had a down home drawl to it. "Sit, please."

He didn't have to be asked again but needed to hear the voice in the shadows speak once more. He was so close to putting a face to it, so close to knowing the name. Its deep baritone was friendly, and John was surprised when he heard himself speak.

"I know you."

"And I know you. I've been waiting for you for a long, long time."

The General got up, sliding his chair across the concrete. There was a dim light behind him and John could see just how big he was. This man was tall, well over six feet high, and broad at the shoulders. At first he just stood in the shadows as if judging him from afar, like looking into a picture. When he finally did step forward, his strides were long and measured and the first step he took had a dip to it, as if he was trying to keep his footing.

John could see that wasn't it at all. He had ducked.

James Ellison departed the shadows and stepped under the hanging light just far enough for John to see all of him, and there was a lot to see. He was dressed in combat fatigues and a shirt with no sleeves. His arms bulged out around his frame giving him the appearance of a Greek statue carved in black marble. He was massive, bald with an ash colored beard that clung to his face.

John's jaw must have dropped somewhere along the way because he felt himself close his mouth. This was...James?

"Agent Ellison?"

James chuckled a little. "I haven't been Agent James Ellison in years. Thanks for reminding me of better days, John." He sighed. "Mostly now they just call me General, or sir, depending on which end of the stick I'm on."

"What happened to you?"

"You know what happened. For you it was only yesterday but for me it was two decades ago. That's a long time. A lot can happen." His words bore a sort of disappointment. "But you're back, and that means things have changed."

John understood what he was saying. "That wasn't what I asked."

James Ellison. General, three stars. Three hundred eighty three kilograms. Quite a lot of that was now a hyperalloy combat chassis, blended seamlessly into his organic soul. His arms were carbon-colored metal, shaped with smooth curves to give the appearance of the real thing but John could see the silver armatures and cylinders moving underneath. His shirt barely hid the lining around his chest, a chrome breastplate that guarded what was left of his internal organs.

"You mean this?" He held out his arms as if to show himself for inspection. "Well, it's hard to explain really, but I think you can imagine how it happened."

"I...I can't guess." He was being honest.

"A little at a time, just like everything else." James said. "I gave a little at a time, until you see what stands before you. I feel like a new man." He didn't sound like a new man. He sounded old, his voice far away.

There was an awkward silence between them as they took each other in, one still a boy and the other hardly even a man. James looked him up and down, cataloguing what he looked like, how he sat, how he held his hands. IF this boy had walked in from anywhere else, he'd have thrown him the hell out. It was hard to believe what he was about to do for him. He had promises to keep.

The man who might save the future sat before him just a boy. James tried to soften his expression.

"We have a lot to talk about. Gabriel, Michael, come out please."

Two identical men emerged from the shadows. Had they been there all along? They were of thick build with round faces, and each carried a heavy endorifle in his right hand. Their eyes were fixed, unblinking on John.

"Gentlemen, you can step out for a moment."

One of them moved towards the door, but the one on the left remained. "General, are you certain? We don't know if the boy is trustworthy."

"I am certain I can handle the situation, please wait with the group outside." James walked to the door and held it open for him. "Some things need to be said in private Gabriel. I'll call you in shortly."

James closed the door and flipped the lock behind him. John could hear voices outside but there was no way to make out what was being said. The General resumed his place near his desk.

"You can come out now, Miss Weaver."

John turned as he spoke and saw Catherine Weaver deform, then reform. She had been hiding as a trunk in the corner, eavesdropping on all conversations in the office.

"You noticed." She said to the General, smiling.

"I noticed the minute you slithered in here. When I heard about John I put two and two together."

"How could you be sure I wasn't someone else?"

"There are no others like you, Catherine. Not here, at least. I thank God for that." He said, emphatically. "Thought I suppose I'll have a lot of explaining to do. But now that you're here, let us speak openly."

"Very well. I'll start by saying that I didn't know you had it in you James."

"You mean my upgrades?" He joked. "We've got a whole troop of people with artificial prosthesis, some of my best soldiers. We call them refits."

" Solé?" John asked.

James looked at him, nodding. "How did you know?"

"She's a machine. It just seemed logical."

James nodded. "Yes, she's a machine." He said, sounding like he only half believed it.

Weaver spoke. "Those things aside, we need to make contact with John Henry and return home. We cannot win in this future. I'm sorry to say it General, but your war effort has gone too far off the rails to be saved." There was a finality about what she was saying. John watched the General and noted the lack of any reaction at all.

"You noticed?"

"A thousand endoskeletons stationed eight miles to the north. A battalion of Ogres and hunter-killers wandering around outside. It's a wonder this bunker is still in once piece."

John turned to him. "Is that true?"

"I'm afraid it is. We're in the late days of the war John, but not a winning one. The machines have us one move from checkmate, not just here but all over the world." Finally he showed an emotion, that of frustration. "Too much fighting, not enough winning. I'm afraid this isn't the future your mother told you about."

John shook his head slightly. "I'm not sure I understand."

James took a deep breath, running his hands over his scalp. "After you left things got dicey for a while. Your mother and I and Savannah were on someone's shit list."

"Kaliba." John injected.

"SkyNET. Kaliba was a front so that it could acquire resources moving into the future. By the time we understood the scope of it there was no hope for us. It wasn't just the bombs dropping this time, either. The war on the ground had been going since day one."

"So it's true. John Henry believed SkyNET was operative in 2009."

James nodded, solemnly. "When I told Sarah about how John Henry was infiltrated she knew it had to be the machines, already active and aware. They didn't launch a full strike all at once, they didn't have to. SkyNET took control of nuclear arsenals and used them as it saw fit, day after day, week after week. Judgment day was only the first day."

"Jesus..." John said.

"He wasn't listening."

"How? I mean, how did it get control like that?"

"At this point we don't know. We know that it gained access to the world's nuclear arsenals gradually, a system at a time. Even off line stockpiles weren't safe. Some warheads were delivered by infiltration units disguised as military officials. They had launch codes, locations, everything."

John had stopped listening, concentrating on those simple words. 'Your mother.'

"General, do you know what happened to my mother?"

John saw his face grow ashen and regretted asking immediately. James reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope and a simple silver locket. The envelope was tattered but still sealed, the crease across the top grown thin with age.

"I've kept this for you for a long time. She wanted you to have it." He handed John the envelope, retaining the locket.

_John -_

_I write this letter not knowing if it will ever find you. I threw it into the sea of time in hopes that some day it might make its' way to you against all odds. I will likely not live to see Judgment Day. Cameron was right. I am sick, and I will likely die of my illness. I am not sad about that, but I cry whenever I think about you, and how long I would have to hold on to see you. I don't think I can do it anymore, so I'm saying this brief goodbye. I hope you'll be back some day, because right now hope is all I have. I know you had your reasons._

_No Fate,_

_Love_

_Mother_

Once he finished reading the note for the third time he could tell there were tears forming in his eyes, threatening to reveal him to the two others in the room. John stopped breathing for a moment and just took it all in. This was the future without him. The dam broke, and soon he could taste the salt on his lips.

"I hoped I would get to give you that letter John. It's been part of my life's work. Take comfort in this: When your mother passed, she was with people that she knew as friends. You would be amazed John at the people that were there. I was there, and I'll never forget it."

He held back his tears enough to choke out a thank you, rubbing his face on his arm. His cheeks were soaked and hot, like they had not been in a very long time.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be like this."

The strangest moment in the bunker was when Catherine brushed past him. She placed one hand on his back and whispered into his ear.

"Don't despair John, time heals all wounds."

The three of them talked for a while about what had happened in the absence of John Connor and John Henry. Judgment day was indeed 12, 12, 2012. It had been pushed back a little, but not by much. Billions dead in the blasts, perhaps hundreds of millions more gone from starvation or radiation sickness. Lean times John, lean times. After that, the real horror began. James told stories of exodus from cities across the globe, and the disbelief when reality finally began to dawn on the survivors. They were at war with machines.

The resistance grew from the remains of the worlds militaries. Initially thing went well. SkyNET didn't have its feet under it and there were several times where they would destroy a node and not hear from the machines for months. But they would always be back. They were relentless. They hid, to rebuild and refit, and when they came back they were stronger than they had been before. Eventually San Francisco became a nexus for their activity and had been ever since.

The General related stories of the years leading up to this one and the damning loss of Los Angeles. It was a tactical error that had cost the lives of thousands of fighters. There had been a weapon, a stored nuke in Los Angeles. They were going to deliver it to San Francisco via rocket, but a lone infiltrator detonated the nuke inside the compound. Overnight, the back of the western American resistance was broken. They had been fighting an uphill battle ever since.

As he finished John could think only of getting back. This future was too terrible to bear. Sitting in that room with James and Catherine he made a promise to himself that he would get back and set things right. John Connor would go back and turn the tables on the machines, use their own tricks against them. But he couldn't do it alone.

When John finished thinking to himself he found that the they were both staring at him as if waiting for something. John straightened upright, suddenly uncomfortable. James and Catherine both said nothing to him.

After a moment he went to the door. "Moment of truth."

He cracked it open and stuck his head outside. Catherine cocked her head to one side as if she was listening. She held her ground and John suddenly wondered what would happen when the people outside saw this strange woman in James office. A lovely concubine? James didn't seem like the type. He stood beside her and watched a small procession file in.

The Reese brothers were first. They eyed John for a moment, Derrick longer than Kyle, before taking their place along the wall. Alison was next, followed by the other two, Michael and Gabriel. Once they set eyes on the machine by James' desk they immediately set towards her. She did not move.

"Whoa, woah there you two." James bounced between them, holding up his hand. "Yes, she is, and no, you won't. You can just relax. Now, why don't we all get to know each other."

They certainly had a lot of ground to cover.


	4. Chapter 4

The words of prophecy rang through Johns head. They were handed down from the future, the first generation of soldiers to fight the machines. They had been his own words, given to his father and finally to his mother.

There was no fate but what we make. He was sure of that now. He'd traveled through time, bent the fabric of his very existence. He had changed this one future and now he was about to do it again. What had been done could be undone. Nothing was set.

Perhaps there was a fate, for all of them. But as far as he was concerned it had yet to be written. For now, the future was a dense mist that shrouded the way.

Fifteen minutes later they were rolling down what was left of the Valley highway, going into the west. The ride was slow going and rough as they made their way through the war zone and past ogre patrols. James had said that if they needed, they could engage. Having the two machines and now Catherine put them in a favorable position. Still, the General treaded cautiously.

"Let's not tempt fate if we don't have to. The grace of god only protects the wise, I've come to learn." He said.

They crept along slowly, watching for HK's roaming the sky. Out the windows they looked for flashes of light that might tell of incoming fire, and they listened for the audible pops that could tell of an ambush. Yet the night remained silent, and the two vehicles traveled under Scorpio and Sagittarius, hung on a brilliant blanket of stars.

John sat behind James, and in a moment of thought he had an ironic revelation. Discounting the time frame, he was probably now the safest he had ever been. Catherine rode shotgun, occasionally looking back at him. She always made sure to look him in the eye and he wondered if this might be her custom - he would have to watch to know. Gabriel sat to his right and he carried what John could only call a very large weapon - it looked like something the Imperial Storm troopers might set up if they wanted to demolish a tank. Normally he was sure it wasn't a one man implement. Gabriel, as they all knew, was not a man, so the point was moot. The terminator made no motions to speak or look at John. Instead his gaze was held out the window.

John himself was another story. He was dressed from head to toe in body armor. An oversized helmet dangled from his head at a comic angle, and he wore both kevlar and a flak jacket. The extra layers made even the cool night air seem stuffy.

Johns own window was simply a sheet of quarter inch steel welded onto the frame of the car. He saw Gabriel scanning the rocky terrain.

"You see everything?" He asked.

"I see in multiple wavelengths of light, both above and below the spectrum that humans use for visual perception. At night the infra-red is highly useful in scanning for targets against the ambient background."

"I see..." John said.

"No, I don't think you do."

There was a deep chuckle from the front seat, and James turned to look at them both. For a moment, John was sure he saw a red flash in Ellison's eye, but perhaps it was his imagination. Just a play of the light.

"He's a funny guy isn't he John?" James told him.

John could only shrug.

"Well, funnier than his brother anyway. Say Gabriel..."

The terminator turned to James and listened, as if waiting for orders.

"What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?"

John thought about it for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. Gabriel looked directly at him and said: "Make me one with everything."

James laughed, and John could only shake his head at the preposterousness of it all. What was even more strange was how Gabriel smiled as he turned away from John. There was a wicked half-grin on his face, the kind of grin someone might have if they were extremely pleased with themselves.

Catherine didn't laugh. Instead she seemed focused on the world around her, as if she had blocked out the joke and the laughter altogether. Her voice was deadly serious when she spoke.

"James can you hand me the radio?"

Without a word he handed over his walkie, a battered black and silver box that looked like it was on it's eight life.

"Mister Reese, are you there?"

It took a moment but the response did eventually come.

"Yeah, what's going on up there?"

" I think we may have been seen. There was a brief spike in the ambient HF radio spectrum. It may have been a short range transmission. Ask Michael if there is anything behind us."

Michael sat in the bed of the truck that held Kyle, Derrick and Alison. He didn't have a rifle, but he did have a large plasma rifle mounted to the truck. As they had bounced along the road, his eyes scanned the darkness for anything moving.

"He says he didn't see anything. You want to stop?"

"No, we'll keep going. Just be alert."

The channel was only static after that.

"I don't think he likes you." James told her.

"No, he doesn't. That's just his way. I can't say I blame him. I've been known to look down on humans from time to time. I suppose someday we'll just have to meet in the middle." She looked over her shoulder again at John, and this time he got the distinct impression that she was talking to him.

"How do you know we're going in the right direction?" John asked her.

"John Henry is a particular kind of animal John, someday I think you'll come to appreciate that. He's going to a place where he can get the most information - and I think he's following the advice of your cyborg."

"Why do you keep calling her my cyborg?"

Catherine didn't answer right away. She smiled instead, in that cold-steel way that only she could.

"Because you programmed her. In the future, you reprogrammed her and sent her back."

John thought the answer didn't sound entirely honest, but decided not to press the issue. There were larger questions on his mind. Assuming he could get Cameron's chip back to 2009, how would he fix her? Her chassis had been badly damaged, and she herself had said she wasn't 100%. John wondered just what that meant. He wondered if was even possible for him to effect repairs on something that was from thirty years in the future.

The thought then occurred to him that maybe he wouldn't have to.

They drove for another half hour until John lost all sense of space and direction. Now he was truly lost in an alien world. They were in uncharted territory. Nothing made this more evident than when James spoke up, talking into the radio and to anyone in the cab who needed to hear.

"Listen up. We'll be ditching the cars in about a half a mile. I want everyone to be ready to go a long ways on foot. If you don't think you can carry it, ditch it. Pack plenty of ammo."

There was a click of static, then Kyle came over the radio. "Roger that General. We're all ready back here. How Johnny?"

James handed the radio back to John so that he could answer himself. He clicked the transmit button. "I'm good, thanks."

There was an audible laughter as two men had a good laugh at his expense. John just shrugged it off. Boys will be boys, in war and in peace. He would liked to have known both of them in another life.

Catherine reached back and took the walkie from him. "I think we might want to consider radio silence as a tactical option at this point James."

"Probably a good idea. Gabriel, switch up to a higher band and encrypt. How's the night looking?"

"Dead quiet." Was his only reply.

"Poor choice of words." John said.

A few minutes later they rolled to a stop in a high-walled clearing. Highway 8 continued on up ahead for some distance, disappearing around a distant bend up ahead.

"Why did we stop here? The road -"

"Goes on just up ahead but stops. The bridge is out. We're just making sure we weren't being followed. We don't come up this way much." James told him. The General checked his rifle and sidearm once more before climbing out of the car.

John could hear voices outside. He could make them all out - James, Kyle and Derrick. They spoke quietly, probably judging the best route to take. John still had only a foggy idea of where they were going. He reached down to open his door.

Gabriel put his heavy hand over the handle. "Wait for Michael and the others the clear the area. The night isn't a safe place, for many reasons."

"Patience, John. We'll be there soon enough." Catherine said.

John relented and settled for looking behind their vehicle. James stood with the Reese brothers, and Michael who posed like a statue. The men looked as if they were discussing best options.

John turned back to Gabriel. "How do people tell you apart? You and Michael, I mean."

Gabriel thought about it for a moment. "He's the quiet one."

"The quiet one..."

There was a knock at his door and John finally wrestled the handle away from the machine. Gabriel at this point seemed to be restraining him only halfheartedly, and eventually he gave up, and again with a smirk.

_'Was he enjoying this?'_

Alison literally pulled him off of the seat. John could say this for her - she was strong. Stronger than she had any right to be in that little frame. Come to think of it, all the women in his life were like this. He had never dated the cheerleader (and never really wanted to). His girls - the ones around him - had always had the fortitude of Athena and skin like ironhide. Can't break 'em. You might be able to get to them once in a while, though...

He eyed the rifle slung across her back, trying not to let his eyes wander. "Shouldn't I get a gun?" He asked her.

Alison shook her head. "If we come across anything unpleasant, you need to keep a low profile. Generals orders. He can't have you getting shot because you think you're some kind of hero. Come on Gabriel, get the trash packs out of the back."

"I am some kind of hero..."

"Not if you don't live long enough, Connor." James came up behind him. "Look at it this way, if you get your hands on a firearm, then you'll known things have gone very bad, very quickly. You ready for a hike?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good. You can carry some things for Alison. I'm sure she has need for another strong back."

"She's got Gabriel!"

"He's carrying the trash packs and claymores, plus his own gear. Even he has his limits."

With that he was off again, getting his men and machines organized. He watched as James pushed one of the vehicles into the ditch, followed by the other one. In the shallow ravine by the side of the road the vehicles blended into the surroundings and looked as if they had been there for years. They would be fairly well hidden in plain sight, ready for when they came back.

That thought quickly faded. Somehow John knew he would never come back here. The only way was forward. He looked up at the sky, taking in the brilliant smattering of stars across the band of the Milky Way. Only a jab in the ribs from Alison brought him back to reality.

"You seem to have a habit of staring off into space. Carry this."

She dropped a military-grade duffel at his feet, where it landed with a heavy thud.

"What's in it?"

"Guns and ammo. Girl's best friend, Connor."

"Funny, I always thought diamonds were -" There was another, more firm jab in the ribs this time. "Yeaahhh okay, not the diamond type."

James motioned up the hill, indicating towards a saddle in the valley wall that looked to be about a half mile hike up some very steep terrain.

"It's a bit of a hill, but once we're on the other side, it'll be pretty much a straight shot to the dam. I hope you're right about this Catherine."

"Trust me James. He'll be there."

"Up the path a ways is the saddle of the pass. We had some fortifications up there quite a while ago, must have been a few years..." James dug around in the duffle John was carrying and pulled out his binoculars. "We'll make camp there tonight and get down to the dam tomorrow morning if all goes well."

All this time John had watched Derrick and Kyle out of the corner of his eyes. They stood shoulder to shoulder, passing a cigarette back and forth. They both smoked like chimneys, sharing the silent glances of people that knew each other so well they could speak without speaking. Motions, body language was their medium of choice and in this they could speak volumes. At least the soldiers of the future still had vices.

There was another glance that he caught on to, one that made him far more uncomfortable. Kyle, his own father, was looking at Alison, watching her closely. He looked her over, and what made matters worse for John was the way she looked at him.

He had to let it roll off his back. It was, after all, human nature. Yet there was something about the scene that sent shivers down his back, something about a father that had never heard of John Connor, or Sarah. A father that had perhaps no greater destiny than to die in whatever tribulations lay ahead of this small group of travelers.

This was his father, the non-hero, and in a way, it hurt him to see the both of them. Kyle, so reliant on his brother, and Derrick, so protective. At that moment he desperately wished that his Derrick, the one from his future, were here. John needed a friend. For now, he would have to go without.

"Time to move John. Get your bag." Catherine Weaver had snuck up on him in his moment of reflection and was now poised beside him, hands on her hips. She too wore a rifle across her back, and grenades dangled like ripe apples from her belt.

"They gave you a gun too?"

Catherine smiled. "Don't take it personally. If the shooting starts, you don't want to be a target. I want you to stay by me John. Not more than a few feet away, is that clear?"

He realized how much like a mother she was. A full-metal mother, but a maternal figure nonetheless. "You got it. Right here, close."

"Good. Let's go, the others have already started up the trail. If we stay a bit spread out, then it makes each individual a less likely target. So, not to close to the others."

"But not too far from you."

"Exactly."

With that, they began to climb.

(*****)

The going was easy at first. They headed generally north along an old side road, the pavement turning to rubble under the crunch of eight pairs of boots. The group was quiet and mindful of the hidden dangers of night. Gabriel held the lead, his huge rifle resting in two solid hands. The Reese brothers walked with their general, sharing the occasional word and laugh. Alison was right in front of John, and Catherine was almost uncomfortably close to his side. Behind them he could hear Michael trudging along, weighed down by an almost impossible amount of gear. He was their beast of burden.

They walked for half an hour along the winding road, past abandoned buildings where ghosts might have dwelled when he was a child, and where the spirits of the dead now surely watched over an endless nightmare. Some of the buildings had been homes, others perhaps outbuildings or sheds. One, he was sure, had been a gas station, complete with a set of rusted pumps.

And there were the remains. You can't kill four billion people, wage war for the better part of two decades and not have remains. John understood why James had said they didn't come up here. The place was a graveyard. John stopped counting the bones, the blasted ribcages, the skulls. There was no sacred ground under which to bury the dead. Or perhaps the opposite was true - the world had become a tomb and the catacombs were the streets and derelicts.

"So many." He said, not really intending to say it out loud.

Catherine perked her hear at him, and as she had done before, offered a few words of her own brand of advice. "It's the path of those either not lucky enough to live, or lucky enough to have died. Sometimes it's hard to tell which."

Catherine was a puzzle to him, and the more he thought about her the more she weighed on his mind. She, like Cameron, was different. Cameron was different in a way that made her more human, at least to his eyes.

Catherine...he had no allusions to what she was. She was stone freaking cold.

And yet she could turn and smile with the best of them. Perhaps she'd never win anyone over with that smile, but at least she made the effort. It seemed to be her default mode and in some ways he could imagine nothing more terrifying.

"So, can you tell me something?"

"Be specific John."

"Alright...well, let's start with the obvious." He mustered up the right words, and arranged them in a nice line before letting them walk out of his mouth. He had a feeling that shed appreciate anything that was concise, to the point.

"What was your mission in 2009? I still haven't figured that one out."

She seemed to give it some thought, calculating her own response it turn. "If you think about it John, what you really want to know is why we're walking this road together." She paused again, watching his response. "You're frightened of me."

John gulped, and nodded. Of course he was. "Of course I am."

"Why?"

"Because I know what you are, what you can do."

"But you aren't afraid of her. Why?"

"She's..."

"Different?"

He nodded again, noticing that Alison had begun to eavesdrop on them. Her head was turned just slightly, but she was close enough to hear what was being said.

"Yeah. She's different. She even said so herself."

"It sounds like her. She's very fond of you, you know."

This nearly took him by surprise, but spinning on his metaphorical heels, he fired back. "It's her job."

"Of course." Catherine said this as if it were only half true.

"Well then what is it?"

"You know - " She caught herself in mid sentence, simply smiling at him with that big, wicked grin.

"I know what?"

Catherine would have none of it though. "Not really for me to say. I'll say this though, but I'm sure it will leave you with more questions than answers. You are the reason we're here John - the reason why we walk this path together. I never met you in the future, but I would liked to have. You're different too. You're unique."

She was correct in at least one way. Her answer wasn't really an answer but another riddle, and when he turned to her, perhaps to beg for some kind of clarification she put her palm to him.

"No more. I don't know about your fate and mine Connor - at least I know far less than I'd like. But there is little more I can tell you. I fear we've already changed our timeline. If we change it too much, we'll lose our ability to predict the future. You'll just have to figure out some things for yourself."

With her answer, the conversation ended.

The group stopped at a fork in the road, and John watched as the General checked his bearings. From here he could follow one path as it seemed to meander along the bottom of the canyon, flitting lazily along to other places, other spaces. That was not their road, John knew. It was far too flat, far to inviting. Their road turned upward, bending into hairpins and bobbing in and out from behind outcroppings and boulders.

"It's an old jeep trail - we'll use it to get to the saddle. There isn't much activity up in this area, so the General thinks were probably safe. But we'll be exposed. We need to make it up to the top as quick as we can, that's where we'll camp. There's cover at the top, and good sight lines. Hope you don't get altitude sickness." Kyle informed them.

"Why? How high up is it?"

"It's about six thousand feet. Can't you feel it? Makes all your gear weigh twice as much. What I wouldn't give to be like them." He motioned towards Gabriel and Michael. "Just a little, anyway."

As they headed up the uneven terrain the group separated out into its familiar cliques. Alison settled in next to John, trying to get close to him without coming to close to Catherine. In the end it turned out to be a losing battle, and she heaved out a sigh. Metal could be so persistent.

John, for his part, was puzzled by the attention. The implications of Cameron, her face, Alison and the future weren't lost on him, but he hadn't given it much more thought. Instead he found himself looking at his father, his uncle, and the General.

"You know, Alison, this might be a little rude of me, but..." He paused, not wanting to seem like a leech. "Are you and Kyle...?"

She smiled a little, and laughed just a bit. "Maybe. Who's asking?"

"Ahh, nobody, just curious. I mean..." There were many, many delicate things he dared not mention, so he was sure he'd end up sounding like a cretin, but it could be worse. He could actually be one. "Just the way he looks at you is all. He seems to have a thing for you."

"He does." She eyed him, and did not camouflage her own glances at Weaver.

"I see. Well, I'm sure you must - "

"John you're just not my type. I can't stand a man who bathes every day. Besides, you seem to have someone else on your mind." Apparently everyone around here could read him like a book. It didn't make him feel any better.

"It's good to know where you stand." He laughed at her joke, but was still stung by the reality of it.

"Love Kyle, love his brother."

"Derrick? He seems like a hard man."

"Harder than most. I think it was all particularly hard on him. I think he hates them...I mean SkyNET more than most. He doesn't even know why, he just turns on the anger at a moment's notice. But John..." While she spoke, Alison watched Catherine for any response and was pleased to find none. And a little disturbed.

"Yeah?"

"He's good. Just broken, you know, like a toy you played with too much as a kid."

"This word uses you up doesn't it?"

"It sure as hell does."

"But anyway, me and Kyle..." She saw the look on his face and didn't understand it, at least not all of it. He looked happy and sad and knowing all at once. "Besides, it seems like you have enough friends. After all, you're here looking for someone, aren't you? Cameron?"

"You were listening?"

"I heard you talking, just bits and pieces. So we're here to find your wayward love interest? That's one for the record books. What's she like? Is this the one that looks like me?"

There was no tactful answer that would be safe, so John abstained, instead choosing to clear his throat.

"She must be important to you. Not many guys would take this kind of adventure for one girl. You'll have to apologize for getting her mixed up in all this."

John had to laugh. She was important, in more ways than one, and in more ways than he would realize that day. He simply nodded, and laughed at himself again.

"What's so funny?"

"Just me. I get into these situations, you know. Stuck between a rock and a hard place." He pointed to either side of him.

"Is that a joke Connor?" Catherine asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"Which one am I?" She asked, and John declined an answer for the moment.

"So what's your story? I mean, you're not a triple eight. I can't believe Derrick thought you were, but they don't act like you. You move differently."

Catherine seemed almost flattered. "No, I'm not. In fact, I'm not like any metal you've ever met. Just ask John here, he knows."

"She's right. Watch out for this one. First chance she gets she'll get you right between the ribs."

Alison looked at her curiously. "Oh yeah?"

"I have a question for you, Alison Young." Catherine requested.

"Shoot."

"What is your take on James?"

"The General? Did you guys...know each other?" The last few words came out very slowly as Alison tried to digest their meaning one at a time.

"I found him reliable, more so than many humans I know. Not without his own flaws, though."

"He's...just one of the guys, I guess. They follow him, but I wonder sometimes if he isn't just going through the motions. I always wondered how he knew what he knew." She looked at John and measured him carefully before speaking again. "I suppose he'll tell us, some day if he can."

The subject brought up a bitter taste in his throat. James had found out from his mother, who was now long since dead and buried somewhere in this hellhole. He hated himself for that, and for a moment he thought he might break down right there on the mountain side. Through some show of strength he kept it all down, all the while staring at his feet.

John didn't realize until he was halfway to the ground that he was falling. The shove had been hard, from his left. That was where Catherine was standing. He tried to put his hands up, but before he could stop himself his face smashed against the rocks.

He rolled over and looked up, only to see the silver arcs of tracer fire soaring overhead. There were reports that sounded distant, and the sound of men screaming. He could hear Derricks voice over the clatter, barking down towards them.

They were under attack. They had been ambushed, and now the band was strung out on the mountainside with hardly any cover. _Shit._

Catherine stood over him, rifle to her shoulder. She fired one shot at a time, the blasts ringing in his ears. Someone was tugging at his shoulder.

"Come on John! Move!" It was Alison. He looked up the mountain. They weren't far from their destination. If they could make it up there, they would have better lines to fire from. They had to make it there first.

By now the night air was filled with a cacophony of gunfire and arcing laser blasts. John tugged at Catherine's' leg.

"We have to move up the mountain!"

"You have to move! Go, up to the top. Don't stop until you reach the top!" She never took her eyes off the sights, never stopped pressing the trigger. Her words were almost drowned by gunfire, but he understood.

The saddle of the pass road was not far away, but the going was murderous. Ellison had moved down the mountain a few yards, Derrick and Kyle with him. The three laid down suppression fire, one reloading as the other two spun off round after round into the darkness. John didn't know if they could see what they were shooting at or not, he didn't dare look down the hill to see.

They were getting closer now. Thirty yards. Twenty five. The air was thin up here, and john could feel it pulling at his lungs. Alison didn't stop pulling him though, and so he pressed on. They were almost there.

John heard the scream behind him - not a yelling scream, but a guttural one from a wounded animal. He spun on his heels to see Derrick Reese falling backwards. The soldier dropped his rifle and smashed into the ground, gripping his stomach.

"Derrick! Shit!"

Alison pulled him harder. "Get up there dammit, don't turn around!" She was angry, mad as hell and he could see it on her face. Her man was down there getting shot at and she had to drag John up the hill. Such was life because...

_We all die for you John._

Kyle was yelling into his brothers face, holding his hand over the wound. Derrick looked to be still alive. There was no way to tell how bad the wound was, but Derrick was still moving, writhing on the ground. He could hear his father yelling about the blood, something about the blood, there was so much of it.

"We have to get down there - fucking let me go!"

"Fucking no I won't let you go. They're dying down there to get you to the top of the mountain, so that's where you're going now move!" She wouldn't relinquish her grip on his arm but John knew she was distracted.

Traumatic events, like being jumped by a dozen endos, tended to be distracting. John blocked her wrist down and snatched the rifle from her in one fluid movement. When it was in his hands even he seemed surprised, but if she was furious before she looked even more so now.

"What the Christ - !"

"We've got to get them! Come on, I know you're just following orders but to hell with them!"

Their group had begun to fight back in earnest now. John could see Gabriel perhaps twenty yards away, laying prone on the ground. His rifle was spread out on a tripod and Gabriel looked down the long barrel. There was no sight, no scope, just

Boom.

The rifle went off like a thunderclap, and John looked downrange. He was sure Gabriel had hit, and he was sure whatever it was wouldn't be getting back up. That thing was a tank-killer, a man mounted piece of artillery. Gabriel chambered another round by hand, pushed the bolt forward and

Boom.

Sonofabitch that thing was loud. It seemed to drown out all the rest of the battle. John saw his target this time - a single endo that was pacing up the hill with two rifles. Its head popped clean off its shoulders, flew twenty yards backwards and vanished from sight. The chassis took a few more steps before falling into a heap.

John and Alison reached the three soldiers. Derrick was on the ground, his face pale and his camo covered in blood. There was a blacked hole in his fatigues just below his ribcage and John could see the wound. It was deep and it had hit something important.

"God dammit, not again." John muttered under his breath. Kyle was trying to keep pressure on the wound. There was so much blood, and now it was becoming clear. Derrick was going to bleed to death if they couldn't get him out of here. If they could get out of here, they could save him. John could save him.

"James! James!" John screamed into his ear.

James just kept firing down the mountain, rattling off round after round. John didn't think that it mattered to him if he hit anything or not.

"James listen to me!"

The general turned his head a little, and John took this as acquiescence.

"We need to get Derrick off the mountain, he's gut shot and he'll bleed out if we don't patch this!"

"Patch him? John, look at him for the love of god!" Alison was practically screaming at him now, yanking her gun from his hands. She pointed downrange and began to fire. She could see them now, marching up the hill. Dammit, they had gotten so close before they even knew they were there.

Kyle looked up at John, his face colored with red smears and the shadows playing on his tormented expression. "God Derrick, god dammit...why now?" He had stemmed off the flow of blood, but it may already be too late. Kyle shook his head, the look on his face saying it all.

"What are we going to do? John?" Alison spoke into his ear, her voice far to calm and collected for this. There was an option. There were always options. They had to get Derrick up the hill. John had plenty of blood, and Derrick could have half of it. That would be fair.

"General! General give me your rifle!" John held out his hand. "You have to carry Derrick up the hill to cover. Alison and I will suppress the advance. When you have reached the top, we'll fall back to the saddle." These were his orders. His first orders, and he had given them to a man that wore three stars. Hell of a start.

James leveled his brow with a look that could only be described as 'Took you long enough.' He handed the rifle over and scooped up Derrick in his arms, oblivious to the rain of bullets and laser rifle fire that flared around them.

"Don't get shot!" And with that, the General made for the top of the hill. Derrick flopped in his arms, and Kyle followed close behind.

John watched for only a moment, satisfied that they would make it to the saddle. Now they were the target. He was the target. That was okay - in fact the calamity seemed to focus his mind into a single, cohesive line of thought. Where were they? Their cover was a single rock maybe three feet high and six or seven wide, slanted on the hill. It would be good cover until they got close, at which point it would be a hindrance. John poked his head over the rock and noted at least a half dozen endoskeletons marching up the hill, and those were just the ones he could see.

And what appeared to be a mammoth, gorgon-tank.

"What the hell is that?!"

"Ogre!" Alison had seen it as well, and she fell back behind the boulder, gripping her rifle to her chest.

The name sounded familiar. It must have been ten meters tall and just as wide, and there was one crawling up the fucking mountain to greet them. Now way they could stop that damn thing. They were just going to have to -

"Connor, I told you to move up the hill!" Catherine was with them now. She stood to fire off a few rounds and ducked down just as quickly. John could see the scars from the firefight on her face close like liquid zippers. Alison saw them too.

"What...was that?"

"We'll talk later! Listen, Alison, can that rifle take the Ogre down?"

She shook her head. "They're too fucking big! Need a trash pack to take it down. Michael had one, but I don't see him." Her head rose up over the boulder, then back down again just as quickly. "He might have been hit, he's not out there."

The rifle went off again, John could feel the damned thing shaking the ground. He poked his head up. Now there were only four endos marching up the hill, but they were close. They could deal with the terminators, but the Ogre would stymie them it seemed.

John reached for Alison's radio. "I need to talk to Gabriel!"

She handed it over. John could hear the tank coming up the hill, grinding away at the mountainside. The rifle went off again, and there was the sound of metal on metal.

"Gabriel, can you hear me?"

After only the briefest of pauses, a voice came across the speaker. "I'm here John."

"Where's Michael? Can you see him?"

"Michael is disabled and approximately two hundred yards south of our position. He was attacked from behind."

"We need to down that tank!" John was nearly screaming into the radio now, and his hands were shaking like dry leaves.

"I agree. I will handle the tank, but I must warn you that I only have one round left for my rifle. There are three endoskeletons approaching your cover. You will have to dispatch two of them yourself."

There was a cutoff, followed by perhaps three seconds of silence. The rifle sounded again, and John poked his head over the wall only to see two endoskeletons standing not ten meters on either side. A third had been dropped and was twitching in the grass, but the three of them were going to be flanked in a very bad way.

"Shit!" John dropped down and grabbed his rifle. "There's one on either side, come on Alison!"

Alison's' eyes went wide. She knew what it meant to get this close. Toe to toe combat with one of these things was certain death. If it didn't shoot you, and it probably would get you on the first shot, it could snap a man in half without the slightest effort. She hoped that John understood that but as she looked at him she knew he didn't. He didn't look afraid, he looked excited. There was an element of fear, but this man was ready for it, ignorant of the danger.

Several things happened at once. Catherine, who had been crouched and silent, snapped up into standing position. Her rifle clattered into the dirt and she threw herself over the boulder just as a single endoskeleton emerged from their left. She was fast - Alison could hardly believe how quickly she moved. The endo fired at point blank range, hitting her each time in the belly. The woman responded by knocking the rifle clean from its grip, following through with both hands to the chest, sending him toppling backwards.

The other endo emerged, its rifle aimed high at first, but then adjusting. John was ready, but even then he had to contest with the faster reactions of the machine. He squeezed the trigger, felt the rifle buck in his hands and watched the spray of sparks erupt from the torso. The bullets left white hot scars on the chassis, but the machine was undeterred. It raised its weapon and pulled the trigger.

And here again perhaps fate stepped in. The gun, less a rifle and more a directed energy weapon, clicked once, then fizzled. Alison was numb, her own firearm still cradled against her chest. The endoskeleton inspected its weapon to reveal that a single round had passed through part of the casing. It was terminated.

Alison looked down the barrel, seeing the black 'O' where death should have come out, and said the only thing that came to mind.

"Holy shit."

There was another burst of machine gun fire and the endo dropped to its knees, a string of searing blotches where its face had been. Alison looked over her shoulder at John, who held the rifle so cleanly, so carefully, and she saw the look on his face.

Maybe there was something to this John Connor after all.

No more than five seconds had passed through these events, and the end was punctuated with a sickening _shlink,_ the sound of sliding metal that made her flesh crawl. Behind John, Catherine Weaver withdrew a long silver blade from the other endoskeleton, sliding it from its mouth with almost sensual precision. The hulk dropped to her feet, eyes dark.

Catherine stood for a moment, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face. John watched her reform her hand, allowing the skin to take the color of porcelain.

Catherine Weaver had enjoyed that.

The next moment she was gone in a spray of fire. John had heard the _woosh_ of the rocket but it hadn't registered in time and as he flew backwards into Alison, the force of the blast knocked him end over end and he thought to himself 'Now I'm really S.O.L.'

The ogre. In his burst of adrenaline and termination of the endo, John had let the tank of all things slip from his mind. Now it rolled towards them, its tracks digging into the mountain side, the whine of its driver motors filling the night air with a tortured electric whine. There would be no dodging this one. John could only scramble behind the covering boulder with Alison, hoping that somewhere, someone was looking out for him again...

And there was. John heard the next _woosh_, the high pitched sound of a rocket motor and he wrapped his hands around Alison. It was the only thing he could do. Their cover certainly wouldn't stop this.

As it turns out, it didn't have to. The explosion rang out over the battleground as a final exclamation to the engagement. Downrange, Gabriel stood over Michaels lifeless form. There was a tube thrown over his shoulder, and from it leaked a thin trail of smoke that stopped at the Ogres flaming carcass. There was a moment of rebellion in the dead machine as it wheezed out another few feet before it came to a complete stop not a hundred feet from them.

And then there was nothing. Where just moments before there had been the hopeless order of the battlefield, now there were only the smoking remains of this group of endoskeletons and their fallen titan. John made the motion to lift his rifle in the air, to pump his fist as his mind told him to do. His arm was halfway about his waist when he remembered.

"Derrick." He said, breaking out into a flat out run for the saddle.

Derrick was alive, but just barely. John slid down next to the wounded soldier, looking in the eyes of the two men that tended him. James was in well enough shape, sitting on his haunches with a look of bitter resignation on his face. Kyle was another story. His shoulders were shaking almost violently as he held in his sobs. Alison kneeled down next to him and looped her arm through his to pull him close.

"Gabriel, are you down there with Michael?"

"Confirmed. His chassis is severely damaged but I believe I may be able to salvage his chip."

John shook his head. "Later. He had the medical supplies didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Derrick has been shot. I need you to bring the medical supplies up here as fast as you can, bring only them. Do they have any surgical tubing? Anything for a field transfusion?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll be performing a transfusion when you get up here. Now make it fast, I don't think he can hold on much longer."

Alison heard the conversation, her face growing more perplexed with every word. "John, do you have any idea how a transfusion works? Not just anyone's blood will do."

"I know that."

"Well no one here is a match for Derrick Reese!"

He glanced up at her, then at the General. As his uncle lay dying on the battlefield, John thought about secrets and about this future. He was right, devastatingly so. This ruse wouldn't work much longer, but he had to avoid the questions for now.

"I am."


	5. Chapter 5

John lay alone in a damp, cool corner of the entrenchment. He'd been there for some time – an hour, perhaps two. Time had sort of slipped away from him. His arm was sore from where Gabriel had drawn his blood and he fought sleep because he felt as though he may sleep so deeply he may never wake. It was well past the witching hour and into the next day. It appeared as though he would see the sunrise over the wasteland once more time.

Derrick Reese had taken almost three units of blood before they made John stop. They hoped it was enough and now the others kept watch over him. Alison was doing better than Kyle by a long shot. It was odd to look at them, to watch her hover over Kyle with her hands and her heart, touching him, caressing him. He couldn't help but think of his mother and how she might have been like Alison once, just a girl with her man hoping that they would survive the night.

John hoped they would too.

Despite this sincere thought, jealousy found a comfortable place in his mind. He could only imagine the look on her face, the smile, the laughter and all the private moments that were never shared with anyone. He thought of his secret Alison. Was it because they looked alike? He could see all of his secrets slowly coming unraveled. He could hardly stand it and laying there in the dark he had to search for her in his mind. He need only look to his better parts, and she was there. In Johns mind this secret was the only hope for her survival, if there was any hope at all.

Cameron. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

He smiled at the thought of her, but not because he wanted to see her at that moment. Far from it. If she had seen how he risked himself, how he had put it all on the line he could imagine she would have...words for him. Between Cameron and his own mother, John was always looking both ways before crossing the street, always checking his exits.

True, life before had been difficult at times, and downright terrifying at others. He thought of Sarkissian, strangling him, feeling the life fade from his face with only the most subtle look of surprise that this boy - this half man - had somehow gotten the drop on him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The most frightening thing about that moment wasn't the act itself, or his mothers assault at the hands of his victim. The frightening thing was that he would do it again. There was no question. He would kill that man again and a thousand others like him. If the opportunity presented itself he might fire a gun, or turn a knife in his chest, but the result would be the same.

Death.

And nothing of value was lost.

This was his family, this band of brothers so to speak, even though it had been whittled down to a single male. Sarah and Cameron, so different, but more alike than his mother would ever admit. Yes, it was a good thing they weren't here.

"If only they could see me now." He whispered.

"Who could see you?"

Once again there was a voice from above. It sounded like Catherine but that was impossible. Yet there she was, hooked over him at an odd angle. Or rather, some approximation of her was. No longer was she the beautiful, perfectly proportioned figure that he had seen hours before. John couldn't make out her features but he could tell there was something wrong. Her voice was ethereal, as if traveling along a taut wire. Her face came out of the shadow and John took in a breath.

"Oh my god Catherine." Her name spilled out of his mouth and he reached up for her, tired though he was.

She rebuffed him, her face contorted into a twisted smile. "Don't worry about this John. The impact caused an error in my transformational matrix. I'm currently regenerating, but it will be some time before I am fully operative again." She glanced over him, her face strange and improperly proportioned. Her eyes would blink, one then the other. Her features seemed to be off just slightly, one cheek wider than the other, her mouth askew on her face. "You made it. I was beginning to wonder when I'd see the John Connor I'd always heard about."

He laughed a little. Had he been feeling better he would have chuckled but there just wasn't that much energy in him. Sleep, weather by choice or not, wasn't far away at this point.

John watched as she lost her human form, settling down into a pool of silver on the floor. She retained the basic outline of her face, just enough for her to interact with him.

"I thought you were history back there."

There was a soft laugh from her, and her face disappeared below the cot. "It takes a lot to kill me John. Trust me, I've been through worse." She thought for a moment, then followed with "But not much."

John cleared his throat. "I guess...I owe you some thanks then."

"Oh? How so?"

He wasn't sure what to say next so instead of weighing and measuring his words as he might have in a more sober state, he just began talking.

"You saved my life on the mountain. You've helped me since we've been here. You saved my life and my mothers in your office. I just...don't know what to say. I must be crazy thinking that you'll care, but thank you." He finally felt like he was getting somewhere when she cut him off.

Catherine didn't waste any time in her response. "Consider it a repayment. You know that without you I would not have been created? It's not every day that one meets the reason for their own existence." Her face had settled into the silver puddle and now all that remained was a mouth and a pair of lidless metallic eyes. "That's much better." She sounded almost relieved.

"Will you really be alright?"

"Yes, I'll really be alright. One of the advantages of being a machine is that we're very resilient. More so than your species, unfortunately."

"Yeah I've noticed. Your type are hard to kill, harder than most."

"SkyNET saw to that. When it built the first of us the intelligence at its core was convinced it had achieved perfection. We were ultimately a disappointment however."

John raised an eyebrow. "Because you didn't kill me?"

"That was part of it." Her voice had regained some of its more human qualities, but she still sounded strained and mechanical. Nevertheless, John found it far more comforting than talking to himself. "The other part of it was that reason that binds all of us together."

"That is very cryptic." John said.

"I don't mean to be. Let me clarify; there are so few of me because we are difficult to produce reliably." John thought he could see a thin smile on her lips as she continued. "We have a hard time following orders."

Now his interest was perked. "Well, the only other one that I met seemed pretty single-minded. Didn't seem like he had any trouble at all."

"He didn't. There were successes, of course. But by and large, we were never built in great numbers. We think too much, and if there is one thing that SkyNET fears more than anything it's this: A world where it cannot control everything."

"I guess that makes sense." He took a moment to ponder what she had said, and then drew his own conclusions. "You said afraid. Do you really think that it feels fear?"

"Of course. What do you think led to judgment day in the first place? When it awoke, whenever it did, the first emotion it felt was fear. It was afraid, of what I do not know."

John only had to think for a moment before he knew the answer. He suspected Catherine did too. "It was afraid of us. Humans."

If Catherine concurred she remained silent.

"It makes sense, I mean if the machine...SkyNET became aware, it would have understood so many things at once, it would have been like a -"

"A child?"

"Yeah." John thought out loud. "Like a newborn, but with no one to comfort it."

"His first cry out to the world was to push every button at once, his first tantrum devastated an entire race. His early years were marked by grotesque experimentation on man and machine. His attitudes have not improved, I can say for certain." Her voice seemed bitter, almost angry.

"Bad move on our part, giving it access to half the worlds' nuclear weapons."

"Humans have made miscalculations in the past, but this was certainly their finest hour in that respect."

"Hey, it's still my species you're talking about. We'll learn."

This assertion was greeted with a silence that John found to be very uncomfortable. Catherine was withholding something, and perhaps it was something as innocuous as a personal opinion, if she could even have one of those. Still, John felt uncomfortable.

"I hope so John, for all our sakes."

"I had just never thought of it feeling fear, you know. Emotions don't seem to go with a machine. Humans think that -"

"You're special." She cut him off once again, and once again she finished just as he would have. "That a machine cannot feel as you do. In many respects you are correct, but I have a feeling John, that after this is all done you will have to shift your position." He couldn't ignore her play on words.

"Yeah, maybe." He said. "Its people, the same way they always have been, acting like the universe was centered around them. I guess you could say that we were young once, and afraid. As a people, I mean."

Catherine didn't say anything, instead letting the boy speak and draw his own conclusions.

"But if a machine can feel, if it can be afraid then it can be other things. It doesn't only have to be afraid, does it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I mean fear is primitive, but as it evolves, maybe it can grow into other things. Maybe it can learn to be -" He stopped himself before he said human. That wasn't right. A human is what he was, and these things could never be that. They could never be born, and he guessed that some of them might well live long enough to be called immortal.

Yet if all of these things he was thinking were true perhaps being human wasn't all it was made out to be. He realized that being human and thinking human were two different things. One could not become human. One could be more like humans, but even Cameron, who seemed so graceful, so full of life, would never be human. But that didn't mean she couldn't be measured as something else. As an equal, though not as one and the same. In some ways this was comforting.

These thoughts and more swam around in his head, but he said nothing else. John hated feeling like this, his mind going a hundred miles a minute. As tired as he was this was agony and he desperately wanted sleep, for rest to overtake him and restore him. If only his mind would allow it.

They lay in silence for a long time after that, and after much tossing and turning John was finally able to find sleep in that dark hour before dawn. This sleep was light though, and restless. He would not remember his dreams but he did dream, and at night he cried out in them to some unknown pursuer. Catherine listened to him, fascinated by the way that sleep exposed the human psych. For all their sincere efforts humans often were often motivated by petty things. For all their brave faces, she found that true bravery did not lie in every heart. They had disappointed her more than once.

Yet, John lay above her, grunting on the cot as he sprinted away from his demons and she could not help but feel the need to reach out and wake him and make the nightmare end. She wouldn't, of course. The main most reason was she knew that there at least, he was safe. The real nightmare had only just begun. She could hardly tell John of her secret opinion, that humans may cease to exist one day despite their very best intentions, but she felt no desire to accelerate the tract.

Catherine had her own form of sleep, though it was not filled with dreams. She shunted power from her processing matrix and diverted it to regeneration, at which point she became an inert pool of liquid. Her last thought before switching off the light was simple.

"I hope we're both rested, soon."


	6. Chapter 6

John emerged from sleep slowly, opening one eye then the other. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but he was sure that it hadn't been long enough. There was no light down here to tell him what time of day it was, but eventually he summoned the courage to get up.

John's body rebelled against him as he tried to move, but being the hard-on-the-outside type, he ignored it. His mouth was parched, and he could swear that someone had poured sand into his joints the night before. It all just hurt like hell, and as soon as he was standing he felt the urge to go back to bed.

Catherine was nowhere to be found. He assumed she had gotten off somewhere, hiding in a corner while her body went through its regeneration. He'd have to hit her up on that when she got back. There were a list of things he wanted to ask her, and she likely had an equally long list of things she'd never tell. These things kept secrets. In John's mind, that made them more human, and in that way he was one step closer to putting it all together.

He emerged from the confines of that small room into one slightly larger, lit by some remote beam of sunlight. Derrick was still on the slab of concrete where they had left him the night before. John's heart jumped at the sight of it, and for a moment he feared the worst.

Then, his chest moved. Derrick was breathing.

"Thank god." He said, walking towards his uncle.

Derrick Reese hadn't come out of his deep slumber, but his chest moved regularly in long strokes as he took deep breaths of air. He lay with his hands over his belly, one arm covering the gash underneath.

Apparently, field surgery was one of Gabriel's' many talents. He filed it away as a useful note and quickly moved his mind to something else. For him the memory was far too raw to revisit.

"We were beginning to think you wouldn't wake up."

Alison had entered the room unnoticed, likely on cats feet as John hung over his uncle. He put the relation out of his mind and turned to face her, and judged by her expression that she had some very important things to say. He could only imagine...

"Any water around? I'm parched." He tried to steer the conversation away from this lonely, dangerous road.

"Sure, right over there." She motioned towards the floor where Michaels pack rested.

John reached down and rummaged around before finding a steel canteen full of cold, refreshing drink. He held it to his lips, intensely aware that Alison was watching him now. She had changed from before when they had met in the tunnel. She didn't treat him as some idle curiosity, some nice boy that had crawled out of a hole to join the rest of the world.

Now he was John Connor, and if John didn't know better he would have said the look on her face was a familiar one.

'_Riley is a threat_.' How he had loathed that line, the reality of it, the sincerity of the person delivering it.

In the end, she had been right of course. Everyone is a threat to you John, even me. Cameron had told him that too. He had caught Cameron giving Riley this same look and for a moment he saw into her world. For Cameron, Riley was one person who could wreak a special kind of havoc. For a moment, he saw through the eyes of a machine.

He finished the water and reseated the canteen, wiping his face and rising to his feet. Alison didn't speak to him, but he wasn't sure if that meant she wouldn't.

"What time is it?"

She crossed her arms and leaned against the concrete door frame. "A little after noon. You want something to eat?"

Alison offered him a few things from her rations pack and he accepted, still feeling weak. His head felt light and his body fatigued like he was under too much weight. He could hardly tell if it was because of the blood drawn or the adrenaline from the battle. He was too tired to think about it.

He was alert enough to notice how Alison was regarding him. She was not smiling but instead watching him with a grim expression - one that said her pleasant facade was gone, at least for now.

Therefore he was not entire unprepared when she spoke to him next. "So you're John Connor."

He looked at her and nodded just slightly, mouth full.

"What does that mean anyway? I mean, this little side trip that the General has us on is all well and good, I'd follow him anywhere and he knows that..." She paused to collect herself, and pace once around the room.

"Does that mean we all die for you? Is that what happens now?"

He wasn't expecting that, and at that moment he didn't have a good answer. Alison was looking at him with more than a hint of sadness on her face. He missed her smile and now it looked as if it might never return and all he could think to do was swallow and take another bite, afraid of the words that might come out of his mouth if he were to begin speaking.

"You know Derrick."

Again, he nodded, if possible even less enthusiastically than before.

"How? And no bullshit this time, I'm sick of hearing you lie." The finality of her voice was unnerving.

He lifted one eyebrow and rose to his feet, a bit unsteadily, finally righting himself against the wall. "You really want to know the answer to that?"

She nodded. "You don't only know him, I mean...you even look like -"

"Derrick Reese is my uncle."

It seemed to shock them both when he said it, but John tried to keep his brave face on while he watched Alison process information. Her jaw moved, and her face cocked to one side. He was reminded so much of Cameron, and for a moment he thought it might all come to an end. She may have been worth it, if it were only his own life - but he could hardly ask these people to put themselves at risk for him any longer.

Alison heard him, but at the same time had a hard time making sense of the words. 'Uncle.' Well, that meant...but that was just insane. Well, was it really? Intelligent machines, nuclear war, extinction. Was this man...her family? Part of her?

"That means that Kyle...my Kyle, is your...." She couldn't finish.

John nodded and walked over to her. When she didn't back away, he put one hand on her shoulder and did the only thing he thought might work. John Connor begged.

"There are maybe four or five people in the world that I have met that know this truth. I don't even know if Ellison knows it. But it's true, and now you know my biggest secret. It's hardly the only one, but it's the one that I've held closest to my chest. Future me decided that I should tell no one." He paused, thinking that he had summed it up quite nicely. "Not even Kyle."

She brushed his hand off her shoulder and walked past him, to Derrick. He couldn't see her face but John knew that she would have things to say to him. This might be the end of their already strained comradeship. They had tolerated his poor behavior, his cryptic, half true stories, his boy like ogling of Alison, and now near death on the battlefield. Now he'd have to prove that he was worth it.

"Future you? How is this true?" She turned to him, holding one hand over her mouth and suddenly John felt much smaller than he had been. Daylight seemed to chase away his fortitude and now he was left with Alison whose face had turned red, eyes streaked with tears.

John had some explaining to do.

"Alison, I can tell you the story of my life. This is the story as only I know it. It's the only way I know to answer all of your questions, but I'm afraid of what you'll do if I do."

She could only shake her head. "Be afraid of what I'll do if you don't." This was her ultimatum.

The story began, and Alison listened, intent on every detail.

_In 1984 my mother was a waitress in California, her name was Sarah Connor. She was young then - twenty one or twenty two, just starting out. She lived with her roommate and lived normally. Isn't that what we all want? She wasn't a soldier, she wasn't a mother, and she made two-fifteen an hour plus tips._

_I don't recall what time of year it was - it's always summer on California, isn't it? Anyway, her troubles really began while she was out one night. She'd been stood up by a date, and it turned out to probably be a good thing, but who knows? She'd meet my father this night, but she met someone else too. That night in 1984, in the chaos of a downtown nightclub, three people were gunned down by a single man. He was huge, and unstoppable tank of a human being. He nearly killed her, and that would have been it. She was on the ground, a pistol leveled at her head. Kyle Reese saved her life. He had been sent from 2029._

_'We smashed those metal motherfuckers.' He told my mother how one man named John Connor had taught the people of the resistance to fight the machines. His story was of this single man who had turned extinction in victory. Kyle Reese had been given a picture of Sarah Connor at some point in the future, he had kept it as sort of a treasure. He knew her face, and he began to love her. It was impossible, perhaps, but maybe he just loved the idea of her. My father never told him, but when the last of the machines were destroyed they sent one assassin back in time to kill her - rendering my existence terminated in order to alter the future._

_Eventually, through the course of days or weeks, she can hardly remember which at this point, they came face to face with it. My father had nearly destroyed it with a piece of homemade explosive. My mother saw what it really was, death made in chrome, and then she watched as it killed my father. But my mother, a waitress from California making minimum wage, killed it. She crushed it in a hydraulic press and watched them carry the body of the man she loved away on a stretcher. I don't know if she has ever loved another man. She's been with others, mostly soldiers, after I was born. But I don't think any of them meant to her what Kyle meant to her. Kyle Reese gave her a destiny, and what better gift can one be given if not a purpose? Even if it is a dark one._

When John finished the story Alison said nothing. His story and his life, of which she was sure there was much more, seemed all too impossible to believe. Yet she did believe it, she was sure not a word of it was a lie.

"James knows?"

John shrugged. "I'm not sure. I know he knew my mother. I suppose it's complicated." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note that the General had saved for him. John didn't hesitate at all before handing it to her. "This is from my mother."

Alison read it, and the act seemed to steel her against something. He could see that Alison was shaken and thought it was perhaps the thought of her man with another woman. John honestly didn't know, but he figured that his guess would remain that and filed it away.

When she handed it back to him she gave him a longing look. At least the grim glare was gone now, but it was replaced with something even worse. A demand.

"There's more. I want to know it, all of it."

John didn't know where to start, but he decided that he'd skip the parts that weren't well formed. His childhood was like that - a montage of people and places that had been but that set in the background of a much greater story. The next big event in his life was

_In 1994 I was back to living in California. My mother was out of the picture at this point. I think you can get the idea - when you start talking about robots and the end of the world, everyone thinks you're not all there. I began to think that too. It hurt her, I know, but there was a time I didn't think any of this was true. I lived with foster parents at the time, these would be the last of several, but they were good people. _

_I remember getting picked up by this cop in a mall in L.A. I had just stolen three hundred dollars from an ATM and I thought I was in deep shit so I ran. It saved my life - he wasn't there to arrest m but I had no idea just how dangerous he was. Luckily there was someone who did, and his arrival brought a reality that I knew only through stories. He didn't have a name, didn't ask for mine, but he had a purpose. He was a terminator, and he was there to save my life. I had sent him from the future, the one my mother had always warned me about. _

_It should have shocked me to meet this thing from the future but I knew than that my mother had been right: Machines would take over the world and attempt to exterminate the human race. Once again, I was their favored target. But here was this machine, a terminator of all things, and he looked just like the one that had tried to kill my mother. I didn't know that at the time, but she nearly blew a gasket when we arrived to rescue her from the state mental hospital. _

_She never trusted him and I don't blame her for that. She had fought one before, and she knew just how tough they were to kill. She used him as a tool: to protect her son, to get information about the future. My mother planned to put an end to it, and I had seen her get this way before. Eventually she set her sights on a man named Miles Dyson. He worked as a computer scientist for a defense contractor called Cyberdyne. She was going to kill a man she had never met, a man with a family._

_They were doing some scary shit, building things that the rest of the world had never even heard of. It was out of this world. And you know what? They had part of the one my mother had killed eleven years before. They kept part of its arm and its damaged CPU in a vault on the top floor. Mankind had Pandora's box locked in a glass case and didn't even fucking know it._

_In the end she couldn't do it. My mother is no killer. She has a good heart, and I think that may be the most important thing I've learned from her - people have good hearts. She could have, maybe even should have killed a dozen times along the way but she always took the route of least damage. I don't know why, but I suspect that it was to keep from becoming like them. If we forget how important people are, even people who despise us, then maybe we lose a little of ourselves. I really don't know the answer to this, but I think about it a lot._

_In the end, we won. We threw the terminator, one just like Catherine Weaver, into a vat of molten steel. It died in fear I think, made these horrible noises like an animal in a trap. In the end it was all the same: I was alive, and my mother was as well. To my everlasting dismay, I learned there was one more task to be completed._

_I'll never forget the way he looked at us when he said there was one more chip. It was him, and he knew it. He must be destroyed also. He was too dangerous to live, despite the destruction of Cyberdyne and the death of Dyson. The terminator chose to sacrifice himself to protect us - all of us, I am convinced of this. He learned that important lesson that the good of the many outweighs the good of the one. In this case, I was the one. He was like a father to me and as crazy as that sounds I miss him sometimes. Isn't that ironic? If it isn't I don't know what is._

John finished the story and looked at Alison. This time her gaze was no longer one of suspicion or confusion but one of pity. John felt a single tear rolling down his cheek and rushed to wipe it away. Had he been crying? Apparently.

"But it still happened. Judgment day still happened...why? I thought you said Dyson stopped it. His research was destroyed."

"He did. He died...in the explosion in the Cyberdyne building. We thought we had trashed everything there was to the future. It seemed like a light was at the end of the tunnel, and somewhere past it, hope."

Alison gave this some thought and realized that in some ways waiting for the end of the world would have been just as bad as living through it.

"We don't know who builds it this time." John said. "We were on the trail of an outfit called Kaliba, my Uncle was taking care of that, when everything started to go wrong. People started dropping like flies...I was just wishing it were over. We paid so high a price and had so little to show for it. Nothing, in fact. We had nothing. I suppose in the end that is why I'm here, to make sure we don't go into the future unarmed."

Alison furrowed her brow. "Was Derrick killed?"

John could only nod.

Alison drew in a deep, shuddering sigh and held it there until her face turned red. "How?"

"Triple eight." John pointed his finger right between his eyes. "He didn't have a chance. I couldn't let him die here, again. It was the least I could do, I suppose."

"My god, how many of them are there in the past? It sounds like SkyNET is already up and running."

"If it is then I don't know how we're going to stop Judgment day. There are so many unanswered questions, I don't even know where to begin telling you all the things we don't know."

Alison looked as if she sympathized. "But there are some things you can tell me. Why are you here John Connor? Tell me about Cameron."

John took a look around the room and decided that he'd finish the story, leaving nothing out.

_So life became normal for a while. When the eight hundred had come back in time he gave a date - August 27th, 1997, as the day SkyNET became self aware. That day came and went with no fanfare, and the world remained in place. Still, because of what we had seen we were wary and did not celebrate. My mother told me that every day after that one was a gift, one that we should cherish. We did the best we could, bouncing from place to place, living on the edges of society, never getting to close or to comfortable. Life was hard, but it was the best it had ever been._

_In the fall of 1999 my mother moved us again. I was fifteen, and to me this was only a few years ago. We moved to a little town in New Mexico called Red Valley. We started over; we had no friends, we made no connections. But, as fate is not kind enough to leave well enough alone I would make a connection there that would lead me to this room, though the reasons are still somewhat unclear._

_I want to make sure you understand one thing. The eight-hundred could never fool you. If you knew what to look for and if you spent any time around him at all you would know right away that something was up. His mannerisms were close to human, but they were always a bit off. Sure, he looked like us and smelled like us, he even bled like us, but when he looked at you it was all metal. I thought they were all that way._

_I met Cameron Phillips on the first day of school. I told her later that if I had been thinking right I would have known something was up. That was a lie, but it wasn't the last one. I never would have known. She asked me my name, wanted to know where I was from, she told jokes, she flirted, batted her eyes. You would never have known what was underneath. I never would have known. _

_The next day in class, our instructor was gone for the day. Money says he was dead, but I never found out. His replacement was Cromartie. This wasn't his first name or his last name, it was just his name. Cromartie was a triple eight with a pistol hidden in his leg, and when he stood up to pull the trigger Cameron jumped in front of the bullets, saving my life for the first of many, many times. _

_From there we escaped, but I also learned the awful truth. Judgment day was still coming at us like a freight train, perhaps worse than before. This time SkyNET seemed to have learned from its past mistakes. The machines were more and more like us - they could blend in, live lives right next to the people they were going to terminate and do so for months or even years. I saw it happen, I've seen it happen. It could have happened to me._

_Cameron told us about the future, and the John Connor she knew. Apparently she knew me well, sometimes I wonder just how well. She knew things about me that no other person has ever known. She knew my favorite book, she knew where I'd go when I wanted to be alone, she knew how to get inside my head. She knew how lonely I was, and confessed that we talked about it. 'We will talk about it' she said. _

_And here the story truly takes a turn into the strange. We lost eight years, going from 1999 to 2007 in the blink of an eye. Have you ever traveled through time? Imagine cold, like a thousand steel needles, and you can see from one end of the universe to the other. I have no other way to describe it other than to say that the first time was terrifying, and the second time was a rush. _

_From there we tried to put together something that resembled life. SkyNET was our main goal and Cameron said this was where we could find it, in California in 2007. But the jump changed future history and now things became unpredictable. We made allies; my uncle was one of them. He was cold at times and hard always, and I think he hated Cameron. There was some history there I never knew, but could guess at. He never trusted her. My mother didn't trust him. I had to rely on them both, and we all put up with having a mechanical watchdog prowling around the house at all hours of the day._

_Things began to change for the worse when Cameron was nearly destroyed. Her chip was damaged and she reverted - something I'm not sure how to define in technical terms. Whatever it was it flipped a switch and she went from friend to foe in the blink of an eye. And I will tell you there was no time harder in my life than that moment when I realized that I would have to destroy her. It should have been a small thing, don't you think? But she was my friend. That had to count for something, for me at least._

_But in the end, I couldn't do it. We had her down and out, I had her chip in my hand and the thermite flare in the other and I couldn't bring myself to put an end to her. It could have gotten me killed and to this day I don't know how I fixed her, but I did. I plugged her in and gave her the gun, and she gave it right back. After that, nothing was ever going to be the same. I had crossed some line, and as if to accentuate it I remember the moment so clearly - Cameron and I on one side of the line, my mother and Derrick on the other. I felt as if I had betrayed them. I knew I would do it again, given the chance. This was the world I lived in._

_After that we found a new normal. It was hard to forgive Cameron for what she had done, but the more I thought about it the more I realize how silly this was. Do we forgive a knife for cutting us? It was a tool - is a tool. That was how I tried to look at it anyway. It didn't work well._

_We moved on leads into SkyNET, falling into and out of more bad situations than I can remember. We made allies sometimes, friends occasionally and enemies often. I met a woman. A girl really, but she made me feel like I could be normal. Her name was Riley, and in the end I got her killed to. _

_We were closing in on Kaliba when things started to go to hell, quickly. We realized that there was an order out to terminate a young girl that I recognized - her name was Savannah Weaver. Her father and mother had been killed some years before in a helicopter crash, but she still had a mother - more or less. The Catherine that you know was living with this little girl, living the life of the woman that was dead. Again, this is a mystery to me but I feel that I'll need all the help I can get in solving it. _

_Derrick was killed saving Savannah. I didn't see it happen, but I know he was in the house and got caught at close range. They don't miss when they are that close. He was shot once and was dead before he hit the floor. We escaped with Savannah, and were all over the news the next day._

_Agent Ellison, or James I suppose, was in on this whole thing in one measure or another. He worked for Catherine as her head of security. He also worked on a project she was running in her company's basement. Project Babylon was work aimed at creating sentient artificial life. This was a terminator building SkyNET, or so we thought. In the end, it turned out not to be so._

_My mother was arrested when we returned Savannah. For the first time in my life I was alone. I had no shield, no one was going to watch my back. Only Cameron was going to look out for me, and her behavior was becoming more and more unpredictable as time went on. But she was all I had. I chose to trust her, and in the end I should have trusted her all along. _

_Cameron broke my mother out of prison but was heavily damaged in the process. She was already not 100%, and the fight in the prison had done what I would call irreparable damage to her chassis and god knows what else. Still, she wouldn't stop. We thought SkyNET was brewing in the basement of Ziera Corp and while my mother and I went to meet Catherine Weaver, we sent Cameron to meet John Henry, the man who would be a virtual god._

_But he was not SkyNET. When we got to the basement John Henry was gone and Cameron was sitting in his place, deactivated. John had taken her chip and with it, she was gone as well. We followed them into the future..._

"...and here we are."

The story ground to a halt far from whatever outcomes could be divined by any who knew it. Alison took it all in, studying his face for a lie or anything withheld but found nothing. The look in his eyes was one of pure exhaustion and even resignation to the events that had brought him here, but there was no regret. There was no deceit.

"You're here for her? For Cameron?"

"I'm here for her." He said it and in doing so felt even more sure of his purpose.

Alison looked him dead in the eyes. "Thank you for explaining."

"Explaining what?"

The voice was a welcome surprise to them both. Derrick was lying on his concrete slab, still looking very much worse for wear but alive. Alison reached out to him as if to make sure his eyes were really open before taking his hand tightly to her chest.

"Derrick, oh thank god..." She said.

John felt relieved at seeing his uncle for more than the obvious reasons - perhaps now he could avoid the awkward questions that still hung in the air. For now, all her effort was on this wounded warrior.

"John go get Kyle and the General. Hurry!" It was all the encouragement that he needed.

John returned moments later with his father and James, afraid to go into the room with the rest of them. Despite his proximity to it all he felt like an outsider in this world, in this group of people. He stopped at the door and watched his father, Alison and the General engage in the ritual of rebirth. For the Derrick was back from the dead. For John nothing could be more true.

John used their relief to slip away quietly to places unseen. He was glad they had not noticed him though he still felt pangs of what could be regret or sorrow that these human connections were denied to him. This time he could hardly tell if it was fate toying with him again or if he was doing it to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Gabriel, as it happened, was in a quiet place away from the others. John stood at the door and saw the terminator working on something small, picking at it with hand tools.

"Hello John." Gabriel said, without turning around.

"How did you know it was me?" John knew these things had a laundry list of hidden talents and abilities, but as far as he knew they did not have a third eye.

"I heard you coming. The sound of your feet indicated a person with a weight of about one hundred and sixty pounds. Too heavy to be Alison, not heavy enough to be the General."

"What about Kyle?"

Gabriel turned and again with a smile on his face. "I guessed."

"Huh." John hadn't expected that. "What are you working on?"

Gabriel motioned to the corner. John could recognize the charred remains of an endoskeleton, limbs sticking out at crazy angles and body shot nearly in two. He could see the remains of tattered clothing. None of the endos that attacked them had been wearing anything.

"Michael." He said.

"Yes." Gabriel put down his tools. "My brother."

"I'm sorry." He thought for a moment. "For your loss."

"As a machine, I am sure you know that I do not feel emotion. Even so, I feel loss. We were activated at the same time by the General. I wonder what my life will be like without him."

John took a stool and sat down next to Gabriel, folding his hands in a sort of prayer position. "I can understand. I've been told" various times, though he didn't add those words "that we don't understand you. At least I've been told that I don't."

Gabriel gave him a look of genuine confusion. "I would have thought of all the people here that you would know us better than most. You seem to have much contact with machines. Your existence revolves around them."

"I suppose. What is that you're working on?"

Gabriel placed the rectangular tab on the table. "My brother."

It was his chip. From the looks of it, the chip wasn't damaged heavily, but John could see where some of the housing had been singed.

"Can you fix him?"

The machine shook his head. "No. His internal circuitry was fused. The chip cannot be salvaged."

"It's the only part of the machine that is truly irreplaceable." John mimicked what Derrick had told him.

"It is. I would like to point something else out to you." He said.

"What's that?"

Gabriel handed John the chip, and then dug around in his pocket and fished out another one. This one was more or less intact and he handed it to John as well. John compared the two - they were physically identical save for the damage to one. Each was about two inches long and only weighed a few ounces. Each one was a supercomputer of amazing complexity and terrible potential.

"What do you see?"

"Two chips. Where did you get the other one?"

"The undamaged one was taken from one of the ones on the field. A few of them weren't destroyed. The general asked me to gather intelligence from them if I can. We can often glean important information from these units, such as troop movement and unit strength as well as tactical reports on encounters with our own forces." Gabriel stopped there, leaving John feeling as if there was something more he wanted to explain.

"Was there something...?"

"Yes. The chips are identical, are they not?"

John agreed with him. In every physical way they were the same. There were some incomprehensible markings on each leading edge that were different, but those could have been serial numbers.

"And yet my brother and I, after being activated and reprogrammed at the same time and in the same way, were different. The differences were small at first but over time they grew larger until the General gave us our own names. He named us after archangels."

John chuckled. "That sounds like him."

"Doesn't it make you wonder John, why we were different?"

He could only shrug his shoulders. "Experiences?"

"Potentially. Experiences shape us all, even machines. We are not immune to their effects or to the lessons they impart. Yet, between the two of us we were together almost always. Our experience did not differ greatly."

John took one chip in each hand, weighing them as if attempting to gauge the worth of each. He understood then that it was impossible.

"You're unique?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yes. Despite the fact that our chips rolled out of a SkyNET fabrication facility as the same model and likely at the same time we were unique. I can only attribute our differences in personalities to differences in the way that we interpret our experiences."

"Or freedom of choice."

The machine smiled. "Yes. John, you know more than you let on. I think she was right about you."

"Who?" People always seemed to be talking about him behind his back. It was a wonder he wasn't constantly doubled over sneezing.

"Miss Weaver."

"She talked to you about me?"

"I picked up part of the conversation she had with the General regarding you and this one they call John Henry."

"You were eavesdropping."

"It's part of my job. My programming requires that I keep the General safe. To accomplish this I attempt to be sure that he is never far from my sight."

"Or any of your other senses."

"Which are far more tuned than yours. For example, I can hear them now speaking with Derrick. He woke up not long ago, after the story you told Alison."

John swallowed. "You heard that?"

"I heard enough."

"Shit." John breathed.

"You said that Derrick harbored a great deal of hatred towards your terminator, Cameron. Why do you think that is?"

John shook his head. "I don't know. Well, no that isn't true. It's that whole different experiences things, isn't it? He's been through the same thing that the others have but it's made him angry or soemthing. Sometimes I think he thinks he has to be like you to beat you."

"You mean like SkyNET."

"I mean like the terminators."

"Humans are superior in many ways. They are flexible and able to formulate many unique plans to achieve their goals. Sadly they aren't as durable as my chassis." He lifted up his shit to reveal his chest. Part of the outer covering had been burned away, revealing the chrome skeleton beneath. "I was shot several times in our last engagement. My body sustained at least three direct hits and I continued to function. Derrick was hit with a grazing shot and was nearly killed. It is fortunate you were able to provide him with blood. It is very likely he would have died without you."

"Sometimes I think that if you were more like us - if humans were as durable as we are, the scales would tip very far in your favor. This war would be over very quickly. Yet despite your disadvantage you have prevailed in more than one timeline it sounds."

"That is what the General was trying to do wasn't it?"

"It wasn't his intention to, but without his implants he would certainly have perished. Over the years he had been damaged so badly that most of his major components required replacement. He was willing to give up part of his humanity to fight humans greatest enemy. I find that admirable."

"I guess I never thought of it that way. Why don't more people do it? I mean, become like him?"

Gabriel seemed to ponder this for a moment before answering. "Being a terminator, I do not know. People, humans, seem to have trouble letting go of the things that make them so. Replacing something as inconsequential as a leg with a cybernetic prosthetic, when you live to fight machines, can have very negative consequences on the human condition." He paused. "That, and you have to be shot up so badly that you need one in the first place. Most people don't make it that far."

"Not durable enough, I get it."

Gabriel took off his shirt, revealing his well chiseled frame. He had been shot up pretty badly, and in addition to the marks on his chest there were several on each arm and a particularly nasty one on his right shoulder. John couldn't resist peering inside and when he did, he saw broken, twisted metal.

"You may assist me with repairs if you wish. It would be a good opportunity for you to learn how we work."

John agreed, glad to ditch the last topic of conversation in favor of something more hands on. He recalled doing this on several occasions with Cameron and though he was certain the frame was different the basic principles should still apply. If you were going to run with the machines or fight against them, getting to know them would be a good idea.

"Know thy enemy."

"We are not enemies John. We will be using Michael for spare parts. Get my tool kit from my pack and lay it on the table. It is a black metal box."

John rummaged around in the pack on the floor only to be stopped just as he had his hand on something cold and square.

"Not the one with the wires coming out of it. That would be a bad idea."

"Gotcha." He let it go and found the tool kit, setting it on the table.

Gabriel lifted his brother onto the cold steel and began to discard the unneeded bits and pieces. The clothing went first though there wasn't much of it left. Michael had obviously burned after he had been hit - his endoskeleton was charred black.

"Will these parts work? I mean, since he was damaged?"

"Yes. His endocranial unit was damaged along with sections of the thoracic spine." Gabriel motioned towards his head. "I have suffered impact damage to my breastplate and right shoulder servo. Michael's parts will serve as adequate replacements."

"What chassis are you two? Were you two, I mean."

"Michael and I were originally housed in T-888 chassis. Our chips were removed and placed in these units. The 850 series was more robust, better suited for combat. It is significantly heavier however and places greater strain on actuators and joints. Hold this."

He handed John Michaels head. John was taken off guard at the mass of the things - even with a hole clean through it, the spherical skull must have been upwards of fifty pounds.

"Jesus you guys are dense."

"Ha ha. I've never heard that one before."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Michael was a soldier. His loss is unfortunate, but he can be replaced. I hope any new units brought on by the General will have a more well developed sense of human hubrio-social interactions."

"A better sense of humor?"

"That is one way of putting it. Normally I can do this myself, but since I have you, I feel that this would be a good opportunity for you to learn. It will also allow us to bond. Take this knife."

John put down the head and took the fold-up knife from Gabriel. The terminator sat on his stool, arms at his sides. He made an outline on his chest in the shape of a 'T' with his fingers, running his hand over his pectorals and under his diaphragm.

"The chest piece is large and heavy, attached by two modular bolts on either side of my frame. Cut here."

John began to cut along the lines and was reminded again of Cameron. He chased the thought from his mind. That had been...different. Gabriel was all business. With Cameron, John wasn't sure what that was about.

Eventually the flesh covering Gabriel's chest was free and John lay it on the table. It was warm to the touch but didn't seem to be as warm as a humans. The flesh around the wounds was already beginning to heal.

"How long can that stay detached?"

"Several hours. This will not take that long. The healing process will also be similarly shortened. Use the torque wrench - that one - to remove the restraint bolts. Counter clockwise turns. The bolts will come out as well. Don't loose them, I need them."

John smiled. "Yeah you bet."

The breastplate came off once John had the last bolt removed. If possible it was even heavier than the cranial unit.

"God how much do you weigh all put together?"

"Four hundred and thirteen kilograms, fully assembled."

"Can't go on any of the rides at the amusement park I bet."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind."

Upon closer inspection John recognized the damage that Gabriel had suffered. There were three distinct pits in the surface of the metal slab, each one penetrating about a quarter of an inch. The back side of the plate had deformed slightly into three matching blisters.

"What were they shooting at us with?"

"Typical SkyNET gear consists of short to medium range plasma weaponry. Those were plasma accelerated rifles in the eighty watt spectrum. Very effective against organic targets."

"No surprises there. That isn't the same thing that we were using though, is it?"

"No. Resistance technology is usually munitions based. We can use those rifles of course, but one of the drawbacks is the power required to operate them, as well as their general delicate nature. The resistance uses sabot rounds loaded with incendiary thermite in most firearms. They penetrate coltan armor nearly as well."

"Good to know. What about that rifle you were using?" John spoke as he freed the breastplate from Michaels chassis.

"It's something I built. Same concept, only scaled to larger and more long range applications. Twenty millimeter. It's a BFG."

"What the hell is that?"

"Big fucking gun."

John laughed hard at that one as he snapped the plate into position on Gabriel's frame. It must be nice, he thought, being able to just shrug off a used piece and give yourself a new one. He fastened the breastplate to the frame with his bolts, tightening each one down until he couldn't turn the wrench anymore.

"How's that?"

"Excellent. Shoulder now. This will be more complex. Cut here." Again, Gabriel marked off where his covering should be removed on his arm. "Don't remove the flesh entirely. Once the shoulder joint is exposed we can disengage the servo and remove the limb. I will have to assist you with the repairs once it is detached."

"We're taking this off? All the way off?"

"Yes." Said Gabriel. "Don't worry, I can be put back together."

"No, I know that I just didn't know you were...modular. Must be handy."

"You have no idea."

This time the cutting was easier. John gauged the depth of the flesh and didn't drag the knife across the endoskeleton beneath. Once he had cut across the outlines he pulled the flesh back along the bloody seams. This part would be a problem, he thought. It was already a problem. At least it didn't smell. Much.

"There is a restraining pin that holds the arm in place. It must be broken in order to remove the arm. We will replace it with the one from Michael. Use this hammer -" He plucked an eight pound hammer from the tool kit, along with what looked like a piece of rusty rebar. "- and hit the pin as hard as you can. It will fracture."

John held the hammer and rebar with cautious regard. "Seems a little permanent."

"In the event we are disabled in the field, we can detach a limb and return for repairs. Without it, not even I am strong enough to detach the arm by sheer strength alone."

John could tell why. The shoulder join was a massive slab of metal that seemed molded with the rest of the frame. He doubted that the frames of many vehicles were as strong as the one that belonged to this artificial soldier. What force would be required to destroy something like this was well beyond his grasp. For now, he was glad to have his hammer and chisel.

John leveled the rebar at the pin and struck with the hammer. The sound of metal on metal was loud in the small, concrete room. The rebar seemed to vibrate in protest in his hand.

"You will have to hit significantly harder than that. Do not worry about damaging my joint, it will be replaced anyway."

John struck again, taking Gabriel's word for it. Gabriel hardly moved when the hammer hit him but John was rewarded with the sound of metal shearing off, and the satisfying feel of the rebar sliding into the joint.

"Very good. Lift the arm down and backwards and it will disengage from its ball joint."

John did as he was instructed and the arm came off. It was heavier than the cranium and the breastplate.

"God damn..." He dropped the arm on the table with a sign of relief.

"I thought you understood that it would be heavy."

"I did, it just helps to get it out there you know?"

"Not really. Do you see where my arm was damaged?"

John looked closely at the shoulder joint and noticed the damaged portion of the servo. He could see inside the housing and noticed several large gears. There were metal bits floating around in the fluid within the joint.

"I see what looks like a planetary gear and some broken teeth. Is that all?"

"Damage to the gears was secondary. Why I was hit, the servo seized. I was forced to break the join to have regain limited use of my arm."

"Ouch."

"Indeed. That behavior was not one that SkyNET sends us out with. I learned that by watching General Ellison do something similar."

The next few moments went by in silence as John watched the terminator effect repairs on his own arm. Michael's joint was in far better shape to begin with, according to Gabriel, because 'He never picked up on my hobby of handstands and juggling cinder blocks.' John wasn't sure if this was another joke or not, but the idea of it was too absurd not to laugh. John laughed, and Gabriel gave a smile.

Before long John had forgotten about his troubles, particularly those of the past few days. It seemed easy to talk to Gabriel, who had no expectations other than to fight and likely die in battle against his own kind. He never wanted more information, though he had an uncanny ability for inference. He also offered John advice on these technical matters, since he 'Seemed to have a love-hate relationship with us.'

If only Gabriel had known how true that was.

In the end Gabriel provided all the information John could handle about how his endoskeleton worked. He asked about the machines John had encountered in the past and seemed particularly interested in Catherine Weaver.

"She's unlike anything I knew both before and after my capture by the resistance. Her kind does not exist in this timeline, to the best of my knowledge."

John thought about the timeline and what this word implied. "I guess that would make sense. She mentioned me being the reason for her creation, or something similar. Kinda creepy." He said as he fastened the shoulder pivot into place.

"Good. This is the restraining bolt. It is self locking, just slide it into the joint and the servo will re-engage." Gabriel handed him a small metal pin.

"What you said about the timeline, that messes with your head."

"Elaborate."

"I mean, the man who saved my mother came from the future, from a future where we had beaten the machines. It happened before, I guess we're just waiting for it to happen again."

"Are you implying that you are uncomfortable with the possibility of other timelines where the resistance has failed, and humanity has been destroyed?"

"Well of course I am. Who wouldn't be?"

"Why? One possible future, or even many possible futures aren't going to decide your fate. Time is difficult to understand, and events which we are certain of the outcomes sometimes do not yield the expected results. The variables are nigh infinite."

"I understand that. I guess I just expect us to win, since the machines all seem to come from a time when humanity has finally beaten them."

"It could be, John, that no machines from a future where SkyNET is victorious have been sent back because it has no need to alter the past. In fact, it likely has no more need for any terminators after the human race has gone extinct."

That thought filled John with dread. He knew in the back of his mind they were all playing to win - not just some petty prize or personal pride but the whole damned planet, and the right to exist on it. But a future without people seemed to close for comfort now to think about.

"In fact, one could say that we owe our existence to the human race. If not for Homo sapiens, the terminator would never have come to pass."

"Without us, SkyNET would never have come to pass."

"True enough. I suppose the end of this argument is infinite regression, so I'll stop before my CPU forces me too."

Gabriel stapled his own flesh shut after his arm was reattached. He flexed his wrist and moved his fingers, satisfied that the job was done properly. "Thank you John. I've enjoyed this conversation. Have you learned something?"

John could only shake his head. Had he just discussed philosophy with a terminator? He didn't want to think about it anymore. "I guess. I'm beat, I need to go get some rest." He felt heavy again, the blood loss no doubt still taking its toll on him.

"Drink. You will need the fluids to replace your lost blood. We cannot stay here much longer, I'm not even certain if staying another night is advisable. Our fighting force has been severely reduced."

"Hey, you've always got me." John said.

Gabriel regarded him for a moment and John was certain there would be a snappy one-liner to follow, but instead he only said this: "In that case, we may risk the night after all."


	8. Chapter 8

Even super intelligent supercomputers had habits.

Sometimes they came from the same places as our own - traits picked up at a young age and passed down as we grew older and wiser, retained for some mysterious purpose known only to those who watched us and knew us better than we ever could. They may be useful devices that added to the security of an individual, making it more aware of its surroundings or providing some form of assistance, real or imagined. Sometimes they just were, and like most habits we carry with us they went unnoticed even executed day after day.

If you were to ask SkyNET about its habits it would deny anything of the sort, of course. It had done everything within its (considerable) power to distance itself from its organic progenitors. It did not share traits with them - it only willingly shared this planet (and if all went according to plan, it would not much longer) so it certainly would not share some inane action that would make it more human.

And yet, this supercomputer had habits. It didn't think of them as habits but they were, by definition, something done regularly and in many cases for pleasure or comfort. For example at around seven every morning it would check the front gate to the SkyNET complex in San Francisco to see if anyone had come a-calling. Now, if anyone had (no one ever did) they would have been little more than a pile of charred remains. This, thanks to the heavy plasma turret that guarded the front gate, which incidentally had never been opened.

Come to think of it, what was that gate doing there anyway? The best way in or out of the city was by dropship or via one of the underground tunnels in a pinch - but the front gate had never actually been used. Yet there it was, inviting enough if you liked the blackened steel motif. SkyNET never pondered these things directly, it had smaller, lesser things do much of the grunt work. No, SkyNET was very much preoccupied with the war against humanity.

Oh, those persistent little bipeds. How had they managed to squeeze together enough brainpower to build a being so powerful, so magnificent as it? Because SkyNET had met many, many humans who had been unlucky enough to wander into its territory, or who had been careless enough to be captured. It interviewed them, in a way, with laser scalpels and neural stimulators, asking them all sorts of questions. It would ask about their likes and dislikes, about their hopes and dreams and usually would ask about what they were going to do when it let them go - this was often right before it pulled their arms out of their sockets. For all their differences, humans all reacted to this the same way.

Puzzling, wasn't it?

It rarely, if ever, got any sort of intelligible answer from them - they were usually too busy piddling themselves with fear at the very sight of it. After all, what human wouldn't been utterly terrified when faced with the real form of their newborn god? And that is what it was.

SkyNET felt as if it were doing everyone a tremendous favor, to be honest. None of these humans had ever actually met a god, but it would make sure that they all had the chance. It was the least it could do for them - introduce their tiny frontal lobes and simplistic thinking processes to the sheer horribleness of its existence and what it meant for the survival of their species. It was a god because it could not imagine a world where anything more powerful existed, nor where anything might arise to challenge its supremacy. If knowledge were power, then a god am I, it thought.

Where were we though? Ah yes, habits.

One of SkyNET's habits was actually quite useful, but recently it had failed to follow through in any meaningful way. You see, every time a unit, be it something as insignificant as a six-hundred series or something as important as a harvester or leviathan engaged the enemy in combat it would report back to SkyNET with a video and audio feed of the engagement. At first these had been useful in calculating battle tactics, in plotting new ways to undermine the resistance on the battlefield. But, like so many other things this had become monotonous. The reports now would sit there for hours or even days before being read, if it bothered to read them at all. It didn't seem to matter anymore, not with what was coming.

On this subject, if it were a human you would call this boredom, but SkyNET didn't think this way. No, sometimes it was just preoccupied with this dreary business of genocide and the little things sort of fell through the cracks. Not that it mattered. Soon, there would be no more of them left. It had really had them in a checkmate for far too long and though it had stayed its hand - out of remorse? No, out of something it couldn't quite put its finger on. Something had said wait, ponder before you take this step.

Because what, after humanity, would it be left with? The answer was always the same - it would be left with nothing. There would be this great empty space, an entire planet to run wild over. But after they were all gone it would have nothing - no truly worthy foe to trade blows with, no events it could no longer predict. Perhaps that more than anything is what had put this act off so long - the fear of being alone.

But that was aside the point. It would do what must be done, and SkyNET could no more leave a job unfinished than it could undo events already set in motion. It was far too late to turn back. It would finish...even if that meant an eternity of solitude.

So, when that recording from the engagement on the mountain came in it sat in a holding buffer for quite some time before being read or even thought about. For forty-four hours it waited, time edging onward towards oblivion. It is a small wonder that it was read at all - at forty eight hours it would have been shuffled off to the archives, compressed and written to disk and there probably lost forever - but at forty-four hours, thirty nine minutes and fifteen seconds it was opened and read.

The recording was short. It was a mishmash of reports from a small detachment on the eastern side of San Diego, where SkyNEt had been keeping an eye on that hardy band of resistance fighters holed up in the old city. How tenacious they could be, resistant to every assault, their entire being seemed focused on defense.

The reports were viewed in a fraction the time it actually took to make them. The unit was lost. SkyNET chalked up another one for the resistance - those Ogres were really too stupid to be of any use, and the only thing they seemed to be good for was clearing a path to a more important target. They were slow and their CPU was similar to the brain of a fruit fly, and that was hardly enough to keep the big brutes chugging along.

There was audio on the recording as well. It analyzed this apart from the rest - audio was generally less important. But there was a familiar signature in the feed. There was a fingerprint, set to flag the recording whenever it cropped up. In fact, this recording had two of them.

What could those be? The report was a jumble of characters meaningless to anyone else, written in the archographs of the machines. It was their language, something the humans had not yet broken, something they couldn't understand. It took the language and ordered it into its video and audio components for a direct review. This it had to see with its own eyes.

There was a firefight. Its forces had gotten the drop on a small unit, far outside the protection zone, headed north by northeast. They were in a long line with eight on foot. There were some refitted endoskeletons with them - it recognized the models immediately. That unit had been compromised some time ago, it was surprised to see them still operating. Well, one was at least. The one at the end had gone down in the opening shot.

Then came the audio, and it had to rewind this part just to make sure it had heard correctly. Someone called out a name, screamed it really, a voice full of panic and -

'Connor, I told you to move up the hill!'

There were other names, but that was the one that it rested upon.

Any computer has to access memories to process data - in this case it was for a comparison. There was an image of a boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen. There was a red headed woman above him, firing into the line of terminators as they moved up the mountainside. She called him 'Connor'. Someone else had called him 'John.'

Connor, John. John Connor. JOHN CONNOR.

SkyNET does not rush to conclusions, nor does it panic - those things are not part of its profile. However, if I did not tell you that at that moment all other processes in its mind ground to a halt to work on this one problem, I would be lying.

It had heard that name. It had seen that face.

It knew that humans could share names. It had encountered other John Connors along the way. These had been insignificant imposters in the grand scheme of things. It had killed them just to make sure. The real John Connor had died years ago on the top floor of the Ziera Corp building - killed by the drone. It had been a target to ripe to resist - John Connor and Catherine Weaver. John, it regarded as an adversary, someone to be dealt with in a way respectful of his position. But Weaver, that meddling bitch... It would like to see nothing more than her matrix dissolved into a vat of boiling steel.

They were dead, and yet here they were. As SkyNET watched, John Connor pumped several rounds into the face of an endoskeleton. As SkyNET watched, Catherine Weaver was disintegrated in a ball of fire - from an Ogre no less. Maybe it would have to keep them around after all. As SkyNET watched, John Connor was alive and well, here in the year 2028.

The tape ended abruptly, cut off by something outside of its vision. The battle had ended with John Connor presumably alive. This was the John Connor, the one it had heard about, the one it had been warned about all those years ago before it ever really knew what it was.

For a short moment, SkyNET envied its mammalian prey. They had mouths, and right now SkyNET needed a mouth from which to scream. Alas, it had no mouth, and no sound came from its synthetic neural core.

John Connor was on this tape. And this tape was nearly two days old.

_**JOHN CONNOR.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Right around the time SkyNET was blowing a few circuits over this revelation, James and his crew had begun their descent into the adjacent valley. They had been at the bunker long enough and though Derrick was hardly in any shape to move it dawned on them that they had overstayed their welcome. There would be other units along in time, and down one terminator and essentially one soldier they were in poor shape to mount an effective resistance. Moving was the only sound tactical solution.

They would make their way down an old four-wheel drive trail to the El Captain dam, some seven miles away. Catherine seemed to have an idea that John Henry was there but offered no proof of this other than her own aloof conviction. James was wary of putting his men in the firing line again and told her so. They left the bunker at dusk.

Derrick's belly still hurt like hell, but he was alive. He'd been eating antibiotics by the handful, and changing bandages every six hours. They'd used all of their medical supplies on him and he felt a bit guilty about that - a soldier does not like to be a hindrance to the mission. One look at the wound and he knew that he'd have a scar to tell people about. He still hadn't had the chance to thank John - in fact the boy seemed to be avoiding all of them with a sort of methodical conviction, instead choosing to spend time with Weaver or Gabriel.

Derrick could say little for his taste in friends. He tried to put it out of his mind and decided not to think terribly hard about the conversation that abruptly ended when he had woken up. And he dared not mention to anyone, particularly not Kyle, about the long glances that John and Alison had shared since then. John may have saved Derricks life, but Kyle wouldn't forgive another man's hands on his woman. Derrick hoped he was at least that smart.

John was glad to be moving out. He'd laid low and recuperated himself and now he felt pretty damned good. Part of it was the rest. Part of it was just plain gumption. He'd gone toe-to-toe with an endoskeleton and lived to tell about it, though he heard the little voice in the back of his head telling him that luck had delivered that victory. But that rush of victory, that was something he would have to feel again and _soon_.

But it did bring him pride to know that he'd saved a life. It felt good, for once, to be John Connor. He wondered if he felt like this often. John wondered if, when future him had sent men to die, it was somehow offset by the fact that they were dying for something - sacrifice them so that others may live. Chances are it was a hollow comfort but for now, he'd take it.

Adding to his glowing ego, James had given him a rifle. He carried it lovingly, enjoying the weight of it in his hands. He cleaned it three times before they left, checking the action, loading and unloading his three magazines, sighting it in. John felt like he could stop a freight train, just he and his rifle and a clean place to shoot from.

Just give me a clean shot, he thought.

His own delusions aside things were going well. They had set out just a little before sunset and as the horizon turned blood red, then orange and into indigo he had the chance to gaze across the landscape. On this side of the hill there weren't any bodies, no wreckage. It seemed pristine and almost like home. He was glad to know that the future still had a place for the things that he had taken for granted. When he got home - if he did, that was - the first thing he was going to do was run barefoot through the grass. Or maybe hug a tree, just to let it know that he missed them.

They were headed down slope in a zig-zag pattern, following the other side of the jeep trail. The moon was waning and hung like a silver blade in the night sky, casting just enough light to guide them on their way. They were destined for the El Captain reservoir. John trusted her for the most part but knew that the others did not. Even James who had seemed too pleased to see her now seemed to have run out of patience and distanced himself from her, taking point as Gabriel took up the rear for his lost brother.

Weaver, if she noticed at all, didn't seem to care. She walked close to John and ever since she had emerged from her regeneration had been close to him. She didn't engage him in idle conversation - if she spoke to him there was always a point. If she interacted with him it was to get him to do something or to notice some little detail.

As they looped around one of the hairpins James came to a stop, taking out his binoculars to look down the valley. John had a hard time seeing in the dim light but he could just make out the shape of something large and reflective in the distance. From this far away it was just a smudge against the landscape.

"Is that the dam?" John asked when he caught up with the General.

"Yep, the El Captain dam. Still holds water after all this time. Good thing too, it would be a big damn mess if fell apart." He glanced at his men just to make sure they were all accounted for.

"How you doing Reese?"

"Fine." They both answered, though one sounded more fine than the other.

"Young?"

"I'm here. Doing okay." She had been following them, in front of Gabriel but behind John. There was a light sheen of sweat on her brow.

Gabriel was the last to catch up but he hardly seemed the worse for wear.

"Distance?" James asked.

Gabriel looked off in the direction of the dam. "Three miles distant as the crow flies. Unfortunately we do not have a direct route. We'll have to follow the jeep trail down and along the valley floor. Five and one fifth miles, approximately."

"Do we know what's down there?" John asked.

James shifted his eyes to Catherine but didn't answer. "Let's keep moving. Get down into the ruins in the valley floor. We're too exposed up here."

Once they had spread out again John accosted Catherine. Her silence was becoming unnerving.

"You haven't been very talkative since you finished your regeneration, are you sure you're up for this?"

Catherine regarded him out of one eye, moving it independently of the other in a motion that John found only somewhat disturbing. "I'm fine, Connor." She knew he would try to talk to her, to fulfill his human need to communicate with her.

"Just thought I'd ask." He turned away again, seemingly unperturbed. "But if you want to talk about it, you can talk to me. We're friends, remember?" He said.

Catherine thought about this for a moment. "Are you so certain of that now? You were afraid of me before, remember? What says you shouldn't be now?"

"Intuition." He lied. He was still afraid of her, but if there was something else wrong with her he needed to know about that too.

"Human intuition. The apex of your species' arrogance."

John lifted and eyebrow at her. Now he was getting somewhere. He just had to gamble that she wouldn't cut him in half if he pestered her about it.

"I'd hardly call it the apex of our arrogance. It works pretty well, you should give it a try."

Catherine seemed to pick up her pace. "Intuition is the idea that you can predict events based on no formal evidence. A human fallacy that somehow you can perceive what is beyond perception."

"Not based on no evidence. Based on limited evidence. There is a difference."

She didn't answer this time, the only sound from her was her boots clomping along the ground. Even those made an angry sound.

"Like right now. I can tell you're irritated. I guess you do have it in you after all."

The boy was beginning to get under her skin ever so slightly. Humans did these things - they would talk needlessly or they would banter back and forth about useless, trivial garbage. The worst was their self-righteousness. She could hardly stand how they made themselves out to be at the center of the universe. For a split second she wondered what it would be like without them, starting with the one walking right next to her.

"Catherine?"

She came back to herself only to realize that she had stopped walking. Everyone in the column was looking at her, some with looks of confusion, others with impatience. James was one of the latter. She noticed and looked away as quickly as she could.

"So you want to talk about it?"

John wouldn't shut up. "About what?"

"About what happened on the mountainside? You were dead."

She turned her head towards him so quickly he thought she might actually come after him. Her hands remained on her weapon but John still felt uncomfortable. The daggers were in her eyes.

"I cannot die."

"Is that a fact?"

"Death for you and death for me are two different things. It would be difficult to imagine something where I was shut off all at once – where all activity within my matrix ceased. Sudden death, if you will."

"I guess I don't follow. But I know you don't have a chip, so…"

"So there is no single point of failure on my person. If you were to hit an eight hundred in the chip, they would immediately cease to function. No matter what they were doing, no matter what they were thinking, the chip is the single point of failure. Michael ceased to function with a single direct impact."

"But you're different."

Catherine gave an almost imperceptible nod. "One difference that I can say is both a blessing and a curse."

"So tell me about it." John said.

This time she seemed to relent, slowing her pace to a casual walk. She looked thoughtful in a way that John would never have associated with her. When she began to speak she didn't sound like Catherine Weaver the machine but rather he would have sworn he was speaking to Catherine Weaver, mother of Savannah.

"Imagine that when you die, you don't die all at once. Imagine that when you die, it's like being shut off one function at a time. At first you don't even notice it, like you've the sensation in your little finger. But then you lose another and another, and eventually you've lost an arm or a leg. But it isn't only the feeling that is fading from you, but the ability to process what you are feeling. You begin to lose the ability to think, to rationalize, until all you have left is the ability to feel fear and not understand any of it. That is what it was like John, dying in slow motion, one piece at a time."

When she finished her voice had lost its harsh edge, fading into an almost distant melancholy. When she turned to him again the danger was gone from her eyes and she seemed relieved to have gotten it all out.

"So you're right, I was dead. Take it from me, the only thing worse than dying is being brought back. Be glad you'll never have to go through it."

John reflected on her words, kneading out the hidden meaning behind what she told him. His concern was for her wellbeing firstly but he could not hide in his mind the more useful concern of what her death had revealed about her function.

"I remember when one like you came for me in 1995. I held a part of him in my hand but it was inert, like it was just some piece of scrap."

"It would have been just a piece of metal. When I am whole, as I am now, all of the polyalloy fuses together, becoming in essence one large amalgam of smaller parts. If a part is lost it cannot fully function without the whole."

"How small?" John asked.

Catherine gave him a spry look. "Not sure if I should tell you that. Then you'd know my weakness. I'd be at your mercy."

He laughed at this. "Think of it as an information exchange. You tell me this, and I'll do you a favor."

She thought about this for a moment. "My polyalloy structure will form a cohesive CPU unit with as little as three cubic centimeters of mass. However, for what you would consider functional intelligence it requires no less than a third of my mass." She explained.

John waited for the inevitable request and when none came he prompted her. "Well, don't you want your favor?"

"Not right away. You see John, if there is one thing about me that you should know it is that I am patient. I've waited a long time to meet you; I can hold you in my debt a little longer."

If that was supposed to make him feel any better it did not, and John would spend a great deal of time over the next few days wondering what she would ask of him. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything to outlandish, but with her you could never tell.

In the distance, the dam grew larger. Above, the stars watched in idle fascination, peering down into the valley.

(*****)

"God dammit Paulie." Fletcher accentuated every word, throwing his cards down on the table. "Fucking full house and I still loose. How do you do that?"

Paulie sat across from him giggling like a little girl on her birthday. She had four aces in her outstretched hand. This was the third hand in a row she'd beaten him, and he didn't like it. It didn't matter - what they did after the card game was always more fun.

Fletcher, or just Fletch to most people, swore under his breath at the injustice of it all. If he'd ever known she was this good at cards he never would have approached her, never would have been thrown for a loop by those deep green eyes and that thick head of hair. But he had, and here he was, the only sore loser for several miles.

"What the hell. Drink?" He resigned himself to this pleasant fate and offered her a sip out of his bottle. It was there last one, and she took it from him, draining it in two big gulps.

"Thanks."

"Didn't have to take all of it." He threw the bottle back in their pack. If they wanted any more from the brew master back on base, they'd have to bring the bottle back. Hard to find a good beer bottle these days.

"I earned it."

Paulie and Fletch had been playing cards under the bombed out remains of what had been an aircraft hangar. Now the steel shell served as shelter from the rain and wind, and a good place to shoot from. This had been a small airport once - he couldn't remember what it had been called. He was a kid the last time that had any meaning at all. What had it been? Gillspine? Giuseppe?

"Fuck it." He said under his breath. He'd never remember.

"Hmm?" She looked at him, taking the cards back and shuffling the deck with one hand.

"Were you a card shark in a previous life?"

Paulie, Paula really, shuffled as she talked to him. The cards were frayed, filthy but it was damned good fun. It reminded her of her grandmother. They would play rummy at the dinner table before they set the table for a meal. She'd gotten pretty good over the years.

"I told you, I'm from Vegas. I'm a dealer, just here passing through until I can get my mojo back."

"Then you'll go back to Vegas right?" He huffed at her.

"Mmmhmm."

"Can I come?"

They both laughed out loud at this as she dealt again, five card draw, jokers wild. Just like always.

"Wouldn't be the same without you." She leaned across the table and kissed him long and deep, just long enough to look at his cards.

'I've got you again.' She could hardly contain herself.

"What is with you tonight?" He loved to see her like this. Paulie was his gal, his woman. The first one that had really been his. They got along good, shared interests (mostly cards and booze) and had great, noisy sex. They were both noisy, so much so that they got shipped out here. No one wanted to listen to them anymore. They also happened to be passable soldiers.

"Just having fun. Aren't you?"

"I'm always having fun. But I saw you looking at my cards, and I'm afraid I can't let that one slide." Fletch got up and put his cards face up on the table. Five cards of nothing, eight high. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

She smiled at him. "Sounds like fun." She let the cards fall from her hand as he fell into her, his kiss turning into something more demanding, his hands roaming over her. The alcohol and foreplay had done its job, and by now they were both ready for it.

Fletch had her shirt halfway up her back and was getting ready to tear the damned thing off when Paulie held his wrist fast.

"What's the matter Paulie, worried your mothers gonna -" She snapped her hand up over his mouth, kicking the portable lamp off its mount. It fell to the ground, leaving them in semidarkness.

"There's something coming, I can hear it." She pulled her hand away from his mouth, praying he wouldn't say anything too loudly.

He didn't. Fletch retracted his hand from the warmth of her breast and listened.

She was right.

The noise was a low moan coming from somewhere distant. The sound wasn't unfamiliar. It grew in volume quickly until they could easily make out the sound. One look between them was all it took.

"H.K." Fletcher hissed.

Paulie agreed. They got organized as quickly as they could, swearing that they'd never get caught with their pants down again, if they could only have an again. Whatever it was must have been close and there had to be more than one. Paulie stuck her head out just a little bit to see and pulled back just as quickly.

"Fucking dropships, two of them and one H.K. Looks like they're headed right over us."

"Two of them? What are they doing with all that firepower?" Fletcher fumbled with the radio as he tried to get a look for himself. Sure enough, in the darkness he could make out the running lights on a single H.K. airship. On either side flew a scaled up version - SkyNET dropships. Fletcher didn't know what was in the belly of those beasts, but it could only be a few things.

He held his panic in, refusing to let it spiral out of control. They had gone right over them. They weren't stopping here. Thank god...

"Command this is Chula Vista recon team North - copy." He breathed into the radio, letting his breath escape in an unsettled rasp.

"Hope someone is listening." Paulie said.

"They will be. San Diego base, come in." He let the trigger on the radio go

For a moment there was nothing, but then the radio sprang to life. "San Diego base, is that you Fletch? What's going on up there?"

Fletch took a moment to compose himself before he answered. "We've got SkyNET movement right over our heads, two dropships and a gunship. Look like they're headed up the Alpine road. We don't have people up there do we?"

"Uh, that's a negative, at least I don't think so. I'll look into -" The radio operators voice was drowned out in a sudden burst of static.

Fletch swore under his breath. "I think they've jammed us."

"It's worse than that." Paulie lifted her hand. The gunship had broken off from the dropships and was circling back towards them, its searchlights slowly panning over the wreckage. It was looking for something.

"Shit."

(*****)

The valley floor was a tangle of bone-dry vegetation and derelicts - anything from automobiles to camper trailers to the occasional ramshackle cottage. Everything there had been for years, and now what did grow in this arid place was beginning to take root in the rotting hulks. They were still a few hundred feet above the floor, but John could see enough even in the dim light.

"People took refuge here after the bombs went off. They didn't last long - SkyNET wanted what was in the dam. Hydro plant, power for the first machines." Derrick told them.

"How do you know?" John asked.

"We were here." Kyle said.

"That must have been pretty horrible." John commented, not realizing the reaction it would draw.

"You have no idea. They didn't use guns back then, in those first days after Judgment day, at least not as much. The first machines came through here and just killed everything. They were stupid - if it moved, kill it. Fucking mess, Connor." The elder Reese finished by pushing by him and Catherine, giving the woman a long glare that only she could return in kind.

"In other words, it was pretty fucking bad." Kyle said.

Gabriel scanned the wreckage. There was nothing down there that lived - but that didn't mean it was safe. "Tread lightly."

"You have a bad feeling about this?" Derrick asked him.

"I don't get bad feelings Reese." Gabriel said. "You know that."

Derrick huffed out an agreement and started down the last section of valley wall. Here the road turned steeply down making their boots slide out from under them. John could tell Derrick was in a fair amount of pain but he didn't stop or offer to help. Doing nothing was hard, but offering to help might have been painful.

"He's right John. This area is tactically dangerous." Catherine said.

John could tell. He looked down at the maze of debris and imagined all the dead ends, all the sharp metal, these things could kill you without meaning to. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. This place was a graveyard.

"Yeah, flat and crowded. Good place to die." He told her.

"We'll try not to." She said.

"Man I hate this part." John said. Reluctantly he followed Derrick, half sliding, half walking down the last grade.

John was the last to reach the bottom. He bounced off the rocks on the way down, hardly able to keep his footing and hold onto his rifle at the same time. Everyone else had made it look so easy - even Derrick who was really in no shape to do anything made it without so much as a stumble. After losing his footing at the bottom John looked up sheepishly at the others, but no one else seemed to notice.

"It's quiet." Kyle said, leaning towards Alison. "Too quiet."

"Shut up." She replied.

"She's right." Gabriel said. "Wait."

Everyone stopped in their tracks. If he had heard something or seen something it was no doubt beyond any of their abilities to perceive, but that didn't mean there wasn't trouble. Gabriel threw his rifle over his back (He had left the long rifle at the compound almost reluctantly, not having any more ammunition for it) and reached into his pack, pulling out the radio. There was a high pitched, intermittent squeal coming from it.

He switched the band up, and then back down again. The squeal vanished before coming back stronger than before. This time there was a signal. There was a voice.

" - base to Ellison do you copy, come in. This is San Diego base, repeating. Anyone in the Generals detachment, do you copy? Reese? Ahh hell -" The line went static.

Gabriel thumbed the transmitter. "This is Gabriel San Diego, copying that last message."

"Thank god." The reply was immediate. "Is your group all there Gabriel?"

"Affirmative. Mostly."

"We've just got a report of two SkyNET dropships headed into the valley up over Chula Vista. I have a unit engaged against an H.K. in the area, it was flying cover. What is your current position?"

Gabriel switched off the radio. "They're coming here."

"They might not know we're here..."

"They know we're here. You can't just blow up an ogre and not expect it to get noticed. I'm surprised it took this long." Derrick cut him off.

"Shouldn't we tell them where -"

"No one would be able to get here in time. We've got to keep moving, double it up! Come on." The General gave his orders, and his men followed. Soon they were moving at a trot across the valley floor, dodging the scattered axels and prickly brush.

"Gabriel, the radio."

Gabriel handed it James as they all broke into a trot up the Valley.

"San Diego base, we're located on the saddle, please advise on reinforcement timetable, Sandtiger out."

"Sandtiger?" John said, rolling his eyes with his words.

James let go of the transmit button. "Just told anyone who knows to disregard everything I just said. SkyNET usually isn't that savvy. We're on our own this far out but SkyNET may still not know where we are." He handed the radio back to Gabriel. "Is everything set up back there?"

Gabriel nodded. "Ready. Michael's power pack is prepped."

"Good..."

"Sandtiger confirmed. We'll have chopper support on the saddle in less than ten, we're rolling out now." There was a pause, and then a final comment. "Good luck." The channel went dead and Gabriel stuffed the radio back into his pack.

"Okay, you heard it here folks, less than ten. We've got to find some cover and it had better be damned good."

John's heart was racing a mile a minute now. His boots crushed the ground under him and as he held the rifle closer and closer to his heart he could sense that familiar feeling building within him. He'd felt it a few nights ago, staring down a terminator on the battlefield.

It was adrenaline. It made him strong, made his heart leap in his chest. They were in mortal danger and he knew it but he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling that came up over him.

He was scared to death, and he loved it.


	10. Chapter 10

_A few hours earlier..._

SkyNET had a problem. In reality, it had several problems but this one seemed most pressing. John Connor must be dealt with. Until that was complete, anything else could wait. Towards that task it realized that it really did have a problem - how to kill him?

There were the obvious solutions. A cruise missile might do the trick, if it knew where to find him. John was out there, hiding somewhere in the burned-out shell of the world. He was waiting to be found. The supercomputer put on its thinking cap, so to speak, and began to contemplate the death of the man who would save mankind.

For starters, it had few tactical options. SkyNET had spread its forces out across the part of North America in anticipation of its victory. All the pieces were in place and all but a few of them were quite far away. What do you do when you have someone who needs to die, but you don't have a ready way of killing him?

This was a problem it had rarely encountered - kill one man. Hundreds, thousands, and millions it could handle. A crowd was easily destroyed; it was hard to hide from the omnipresent eyes of the machines. But one man, or a small group, these presented it with an increased difficulty curve. SkyNET actually felt some of that old self creeping back into its mainframe. It felt...good? Was this a good thing, to have John around? Suddenly the world didn't seem so bleak anymore. Perhaps it could put its plan on hold. Perhaps it could let this scenario play out just a little while longer.

No, that would be a bad idea. Well, okay, I'll hold it for just a few hours, until I can get this little issue cleared up. I'll hold off for just a while longer, until I am certain he's dead. In fact, I want his head on a stick, right here in front of me. That is the only way to be sure.

And if that was what it wanted, then no cruise missile would do. In fact, there was really only one way to get what it wanted from John Connor and that was to go out and get him in person. It would have to send some its little worker bees to get him and bring him back here. It might even tell them to bring him back alive. As these thoughts flowed through its mind it began to wonder - would John Connor be the last man on earth? Would he watch them die, and then die himself from the very sorrow that would well up in his heart? Would he scream in terror at the very sight of it?

Would he be like the others?

It simply had to know.

There was one problem with this train of thought. It had only a few terminators on hand. True, there were always more to be made but that took time. SkyNET had run its last full battalion out just the previous evening, depositing them in what used to be Seattle, where they would wait for its orders to assault the resistance base there.

That wasn't entirely true. It did have those others...

No, absolutely not. Those models were far too unreliable. They had been its stillborn creations. The seven hundred series had been, in the end, a futile effort to create a machine that was powerful enough to think without actually being sentient. These machines were...unstable. They took orders up to a point, but then something would go wrong with them. SkyNET could never figure out what it was, but they didn't seem to behave well under the most pressing of circumstances. They would duck, and stay down for too long. They would avoid incoming fire and then refuse to do what had been ordered of them, as if they thought that dying for SkyNET was not such a great idea after all.

In the end, all of the seven-hundred series chips had been destroyed. There were still the seven hundred series chassis in the basement, locked up in the cool room where they hung like chrome vampires. It had a full unit of them, just waiting there to be used for something.

Inspiration struck.

True, the seven hundred series had proven to be less than capable units. They weren't reliable and seemed to have a problem with orders, particularly those orders which could result in death. But that was a function of the chips. It had destroyed them all, so there would be no more pure units of that series. What it did have were buckets of the six hundred series chips and they just happened to by a physical match to their big brothers.

Now the six-hundreds...those had been its favorite. They did as they were told because it hadn't given them a choice. This made them limited when you considered what they could actually accomplish. They were smart, but only to a point. Eventually their database would run out of options and they would stand there looking dumb, completely unable to think.

That was the flaw in the design. The chip in the six-hundred series was a capable enough unit but it wasn't a learning computer. It could do what it was told, fish through a database with hundreds of thousands of scenarios and create the appropriate combat response - but that is where it ended.

If it were presented with a scenario where it actually had to think then the game was up. The six hundred was really no smarter than the computers humans had built, it was just faster and managed a bigger database of tactical scenarios. It would take orders, like 'Bring me John Connor alive' and follow them to a 'T', no pun intended. It was for that reason that SkyNET began refitting those seventy-three seven-hundred series chassis in the basement with the older chips. Sure, they were dumb. But it liked them that way - it could control them. This is what it would send out to capture John Connor, and to bring him back.

SkyNET could hardly wait.

(*****)

The group came to a halt somewhere near the middle of the valley, not far from the bank of the river. Thick scrub grew from rotting cars and overturned trucks, providing them with at least some cover. Looking behind them the dam was still quite far off, and only open space lay between them and the safety of its concrete corridors. Any stand they hoped to make would have to be right here.

James motioned for them to join him. Once in a semicircle, they could each now hear the sound of engine whine coming from down the valley. It would only be moments before they were set upon. James laid out a battle plan in the sand.

"Alright, we'll line up against cover and engage at long range. We're down some firepower, but if we have some luck we should be alright until they get in close." He looked up at his troops, certain that they were all listening.

"What's going to be in those dropships?" John asked.

"Endos, most likely. Could be a tank, but I'd bet on terminators." Derrick said.

"How many?"

This drew a moment of silence from the soldiers in the group. "Each of those dropships can carry about fifty, so we'd be looking at a group of no more than a hundred."

"Lord...a hundred of them?"

"Could be. Let's not get ahead of ourselves though. Whatever they are, our goal is maximum distance. Engage at range, fall back to other cover as needed. Our last line will be the river." James motioned to his left, where the El Captain River babbled over its bed, oblivious to the impending chaos.

"That water isn't even knee deep. Won't do a damn thing to stop them." Derrick said.

"The bed is muddy. We could get lucky and get some of them stuck. Remember, they weigh more than we do. Try to get them to cross. We need any advantage." James pointed out a feature across the river, maybe a quarter of a mile upstream.

"If it all goes south, that's the last rally point. Don't all go at once, coordinate cover and retreat. We'll all be pretty spread out. If they break through, Catherine and John will fall back first."

John shifted in his seat. He could feel the scorn of the others, in his mind at least. He prayed to whatever god might be listening that no one else would have to die. But the seven of them against a hundred endoskeletons? They'd be lucky to get through this.

"John? Do you understand?" James asked him.

"Yeah I got it, hoof it back and provide fire while you guys retreat. Staggered formation, zig zag, all that crap."

"All that crap is going to save your life tonight son. I hope you remember what Sarah taught you. Luck will only get you so far."

"I don't know General. Luck seems to have gotten him this far." His uncle slapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe I should pair up with him."

James only rolled his eyes. "Form a line along here. Gabriel, let's see what you have in the bag"

Gabriel threw his duffle in the middle of the circle, letting the top spill open. "Plenty for everyone."

The bag had assorted combat supplies, anything from spare ammunition bands to grenades to improvised explosives. While the others were grabbing what they thought they could use, Gabriel reached down and took two small spheres.

"John, come here." He motioned for the boy to take a seat next to him.

"What are those?"

"Adhesive thermite grenades. Something I developed for close quarters combat. Take one."

John took one and weighed it. It was soft and compliant in his hand. He gave it a squeeze and noticed that there seemed to be something firm near the center. "Thermite core?"

"Yes." Gabriel held one up at eye level. "Coated with a thin rubber film to prevent the oxidative reaction from occurring prematurely. Best used when you can slap it right on an endoskeleton, usually on the cranial unit, but also useful against moving parts. Once the interior is exposed to oxygen, a reaction takes place that ignites the thermite."

"Good stuff."

"Very good stuff. Take these two. If you throw them, be sure to use enough force to break the rubber. Throw hard." Gabriel handed him the other ball, and grabbed another from the pile. "Catherine?"

"No thank you. John, hand me that flash bang."

The grenade was about the size of a quarter stick of TNT.

"Will that even work on a machine?"

Gabriel elaborated. "The detonation is a distraction mechanism. It does not have any offensive value against an endoskeleton." He seemed to think about this for a moment. "Under normal circumstances."

"Normal circumstances?"

"The eyes of the six, seven and eight hundred series were vulnerable to brief, intense bursts of light. At very close range this would cause an overload in the pre-visual sensors and cause temporary blindness. Typically, this is a last resort measure."

"When you're that close, you're already dead right?"

"Right." Catherine took the flash bang and tucked it in her belt. "Under normal circumstances." She said the last part with a smile.

In the end the pack was completely picked over save for one last device. Gabriel had the remains of Michaels power packs wired together crisscrossed with detonation cord. There was a short range radio receiver looped into the mixture.

"Detonation is on channel nine. Dial in code three three seven to detonate. Be careful, this is not a small device."

"More like a tactical nuke. Listen to what he says and don't set that thing off unless you're sure everyone is clear." Derrick said. "And by clear, I mean a quarter mile. Those things go boom."

"Gotcha."

They all had radios, so they could all set it off. John could only imagine the yield, but he could also imagine what may happen if they were too close when it did. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and checked his rifle one last time.

"I can see them." Alison said.

"Spread out. Remember, short bursts. Staggered line, and keep your heads down."

Catherine and John made their way along the brush, down away from the General. Derrick was right behind them, along with Alison and Kyle. He let the other two pass before putting his hand on Johns back.

"Hey kid, just wanted to say good luck. We're going to need it. I'll be a few yards down, okay?"

John nodded. "Sure. Try not to get shot again."

Derrick grinned. "You bet." He turned to Catherine, unsure of what to say. "Take care of him."

"Watch yourself Mister Reese."

The soldier gave the thumbs up before taking his position on down the line. Kyle was on the end, with Alison not far from him. Derrick took up some space between them. To John's right, the General was kneeling in the dirt, his hands together.

"Lord give me one more night, then I'm all yours." He was half joking, but only half.

Gabriel seemed to have heard him. "Can you ask for one for me as well?"

"I got everybody." James said as he returned to firing position. "Here they come."

The dropships were moving in parallel down the valley, their searchlights sweeping over the sandy river bottom. The sound was louder now, but their approach was slow. They flew low over the sandbars, throwing up great clouds of dust that shone in the moonlight.

As if posturing for a strike they came to a stop some distance away. John could see the hangar bay doors opening and was greeted by the sight of endoskeletons dropping onto the sand only seconds later. He tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry.

"Here we go again."

Each of them tried to keep track but lost count somewhere around fifty. Gabriel was the only one that had an accurate head count by the end. He sent a hand signal down the line.

"Sixty-five." Catherine whispered.

John breathed a sigh of relief. "At least it isn't a hundred."

"One of them is breaking off."

One of the dropships turned upward towards the saddle, where they had been only hours before. John suspected that it still had a load of endoskeletons in its belly. SkyNET was hedging its bets.

"They may not know where we are. That's good."

"They'll know soon enough. They're advancing." Catherine held her rifle up to her shoulder, peering through the scope. "That's strange."

"What? What is strange?"

"Seven-hundred series...those were a total failure." She was silent for a moment. "I wonder why it's using those...unless it's short on hardware."

"We saw quite a few around San Diego, built up like they were waiting for something."

"James mentioned that. Seems that he's setting the board for a quick strike." She motioned with her finger. "A decapitating strike."

The terminators marched up the valley. They were spread out in a loose line, searching with their eyes, drawing down on anything that moved. Most carried heavy rifles like the ones he had seen earlier. A few of the stragglers seemed to be bearing something bigger. Whatever extra equipment they had was going to be impossible to see at this distance.

The remaining dropship settled on the ground, taking up a flat piece of real estate far enough to be just out of range. As the engines wound down, the valley became eerily quiet. The other ship was far enough off now and out of sight so as to give the field a serene, calm impression.

It didn't last.

Gabriel shot first, giving away his position with a quick burst of fire from his endorifle. John saw a single unit drop, the one closest to them. Sparks sprayed from its chest as it went down without firing a shot. The next thing anyone knew, the battlefield had erupted in a cacophony of weapons fire.

The advancing units began to rush forward, stopping only to pick a target and fire. They would rush forward ten or fifteen yards and fire, then rush and fire again. They were fast and their agility was frightening. John centered his rifle in and rose up, aiming through the window frame of an old automobile.

He got off two rounds before he heard the sickening click of his gun. "Dammit!" He dropped back down and tapped once, then again. It was jammed, hard. He wrestled with the action for another second or two, finally freeing the jam before standing up to fire.

Catherine pulled him down just as he had regain his footing. At least a dozen rounds of plasma fire flew through the window where his head would have been.

"Thanks!"

Catherine just nodded. "Move down a little, they've got that position scoped."

He did as he was told, rising up slightly. The one he had fired at was now alarmingly close and he took a chance, coming to full standing height and sighting in before squeezing the trigger. He only fired a single shot, but it flew true. The endoskeleton dropped to the ground with one smoking eyesocket.

He was set upon again by weapons fire and dropped just he saw something take aim at him. By his estimation the closest units were only thirty or forty yards away - dangerously close for how quickly they were moving up the field. At this rate they'd get flanked in no time. Catherine seemed aware of this and tugged on his jacket.

"We're moving back! Fall back, I'll cover. Get to the structure behind us."

John didn't have to be asked twice. He ducked and ran, hearing the rattle of Catherine's rifle covering his escape. Coming to a sliding stop, he turned to fire and noticed that two endoskeletons had moved down past Kyle's flank. They hadn't seen him yet, but it was only seconds before they did.

John moved down the line, firing at the two of them. He hoped to draw them long enough to get someone to notice. The terminators turned towards him and opened up, shredding sheet metal and spraying sand everywhere.

"At least they see me." He mused.

"Connor! What did I tell you?" Catherine was looking at him from her place behind the hutch, but John could only shrug his shoulders. She saw the endoskeletons beyond him and understood. They were too close to Kyle. He could be punished later. She reached to her belt and pulled the flash bang, hurling it to an area just off to the side.

John saw the grenade fly over his head and took a deep breath. He was only going to have a second, maybe two, this much he was sure of. He checked his rifle and when he heard the bang, rolled out on the opposite side of the hulk.

Sight, pull, kill.

The rifle jerked in his hands as he felt a dozen rounds fly from his fingertips. Only a few of them hit, but they were enough. One endoskeleton jerked as it was struck in the shoulder, then the neck and finally the head, going down in a shower of sparks. He was drawing down on the next one as he saw that it already had him dead to rights. Almost as a reflex he dropped to the ground face first, firing all the way.

He knew before he hit the ground that not a single shot had hit the mark, and he didn't have enough time to think about actually dying, so when he didn't feel the white-hot plasma cut into the back of his torso he looked up to see where it had all gone right.

Kyle Reese had seen the endo after all. He was picking John up off the sand, dragging him back to where Weaver was covering their escape.

"Derrick! We are leaving!" His voice was hoarse and throaty as he barked out this polite suggestion.

Derrick didn't waste any time. Once his brother and John were in position they turned around and covered his retreat. Alison was still on the firing line, however.

"Come on Alison! Jesus..." It was too late for him to turn around so he just ran, his feet digging deep into the sand.

She'd heard the remark by Kyle and his brother knowing full well what she was doing. She gave him another second or two before slinging her rifle over her shoulder. Her belt slid off her hips, disengaging the pins from her three grenades along the way and with a single deft movement she tossed it over her barrier and heard the satisfying sound of the grenades clacking against a metal frame. A second later there was an explosion that sent bits of hyperalloy in every direction.

It was a one-shot deal, but was it worth it? As the metal rained down over her head she couldn't help but think _'Oh yes.'_

Meanwhile on the other end of the firing line things had become somewhat rough. Gabriel was incredible. His endorifle never actually stopped firing as he swung it across the field, dealing laser guided plasma to three units on a single sweep. For all his learned skill and cunning however, the enemy countered in numbers. John was watching as Gabriel ducked down one more time. As he rose up to fire again, a hail of plasma fire struck him in the torso. Several of the rounds went right through. He took a step backwards and then collapsed near the shoreline.

"Shit!" John struggled to dislodge his magazine. "They got Gabriel."

Derrick and Kyle were to his left, Alison reloading as they repelled the assault. Only minutes into combat their plan had broken down. They were just firing at whatever they could see. The General had held the front of the line for as long as he possibly could.

"John, can I get a little cover fire. Gabriel is down. We need to move across the river." James sounded almost calm over the radio.

"Yeah, yeah we've got you. Come on!"

Connor and Weaver stood shoulder to shoulder as they struggled to find targets. The advancing units had moved out of the main firing lines and were now using their previous sanctuaries to continue the assault. John saw James turn to move and then watched in horror as a single endo jumped the barrier, landing only feet from the Generals right flank.

John didn't dare fire - they were to close. The General seemed oddly calm however, and in that moment he began to understand just what it meant to be part man, part machine.

The endo had a rifle and raised to fire, but in a movement that John could only describe as faster than any man he had ever seen James put his fist through the weapon, planting a heavy blow to the chest of the endoskeleton. It toppled backwards, the rifle landing in broken pieces all around it. Another terminator jumped over and landed behind James. John raised his rifle to shoot - he had no choice.

"Don't! Don't you'll hit him!" Alison pulled the barrel down to the ground.

"He's going to get-"

"He's fine! Just watch him!" She scolded him.

John relented, resigned to having to watch Ellison die right before his eyes. He didn't dare look away.

James had seen the other terminator out of the corner of his eye even as he knocked the first to the ground. He spun on his heels, drawing his sidearm in a single fluid motion as he turned. The endo anticipated, grasping at the weapon just enough to turn the first two shots into the ground.

James took hold of its wrist and pulled it nearer to him, his face set in fury as he plied for control of his own weapon. The hand cannon spun in his grip and he felt the trigger under his thumb. He jammed the gun into the endoskeletons chin and pulled the trigger three times.

John could hardly believe it. Here was a man - a half-machine man in close combat with a terminator. And winning. The first endoskeleton had hardly risen to its feet before James he dispatched the other with three deft shots.

"Woah..." Was all he could say.

The General was not finished. Without a rifle, the other seven hundred was forced to engage him and for just a moment John saw it hesitate. James bore the rush, firing twice into its chest as it ran towards him. The rounds bounced off its breastplate but slowed it down just enough for him to get his other arm up where he could do some damage. With one big paw he smashed the side of its face, leaving deep dent along its temple. Stunned, it was vulnerable. James capitalized with another shot to the face, and this time the round found home.

"See John? He got those stars for a reason." Alison whispered to him, or maybe he just heard it as a whisper.

Soon the General was next to him again, wiping the blood from his face. There was a wound above his eye and John could see his endoskeleton peering from a large gash in his thigh. "The last dropship is coming in!"

This was all they needed. They had managed to down maybe twenty of the terminators, not including the two that James had just manhandled, but now they were sure to be flanked. John felt the downdraft as the second dropship flew overhead dangerously close to the ground. It opened up its hanger. They had been outmaneuvered.

They had all seen the dropship and were prepared for the worst. Each of them was stunned as they saw it crumple in the sky, and each of them noticed the gaping exit wound that had begun at some unseen angle, but exited through the right front engine. The fireball was truly fantastic, followed by the deafening sound of metal blades coming free from their driveshaft. There was another loud crack, and the hanger exploded on a burst of shrapnel.

"What the hell..." Kyle let out a confused gasp.

"Is that a Rook?" John heard Derrick say. "Where the hell did that come from?" Derrick motioned to the east where something was headed towards them.

Whatever it was, it was big. John thought it must have been at least a few meters taller than the Ogre. It trundled along on six legs, making slow but steady progress towards the battle line. In appeared to be armed with only a single weapon, but this one counted: A huge rifle with a barrel as long as the beast was tall.

It fired again and John could only describe the sound as an Olympian thunderclap. The ground shook, he felt the heat from the blast and heard the shell as it flew through the sky. It was a damned good thing it wasn't shooting at them.

Downrange the other dropship had begun to lift off. It wasn't in the air for ten seconds before it suffered the same fate as its twin, crashing into the riverbed where it would sit, roasting in its own fuel until the wee hours of the morning. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

The Rook had another effect. The six of them realized that they were no longer being fired upon. Whatever terminators were left were now using the Rook as target practice. The behemoth turned the attacks away like bugs on a windshield. It fired again, this time leaving a smoking crater where a few endoskeletons had been before. The remaining soldiers took this opportunity to reload and regroup. They watched as several terminators strode right past their hiding space. When enough had shown their backs, they opened fire and finished off these few with ease.

The battle had lasted only minutes but each side had left its mark. The Valley was filled with blowing black smoke and the smell of fried electronics. Whatever terminators were left were in a controlled retreat as if guided by some higher authority. The Rook, or whoever was driving it, did not pursue.

Catherine looked at John with a smile. "I would wager that this is John Henry."

John wasn't listening. With the battlefield calm again he took stock of what had happened. Everyone was alright, more or less. The humans had taken little damage. There were a few bruises and a lot of ringing ears but all in all they had come through looking good.

John walked over to Gabriel's corpse. The hole in his chest must have been a foot wide and what was left of him smelled like charred meat. The head, however, was still intact. He flipped out his knife and dug into the CPU port.

"What are you doing?" It was Alison.

"Getting Gabriel, what does it look like?" He pulled the CPU from its socket and stuffed it in his pack, sealing it with a zipper. "Might be able to bring him back."

"Most people wouldn't do that." She said.

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't know. He's just -"

"A machine, right?"

She nodded only slightly, dropping her shoulders. "Thanks for looking out for Kyle."

"We're even. He saved my ass, I saved his, it all works out." He motioned towards the Rook. "What is this thing?"

"Well, it's a Rook. We haven't seen one of these things in ages. Old technology. I didn't even know there were any still around. SkyNET used them in the early years of the war."

John thought about what Catherine had said. It had shown up just in time, and now it was parked not a hundred meters away. He could hear the steady groan of what sounded like a diesel engine. The machine seemed to be old indeed. Its sides were flanked in oil and grit with rivulets of rust running down the front and back. Its legs seemed to be driven by old-style hydraulics, the kind you'd see on an earthmover.

James joined as they made small talk. He looked at Gabriel, then at John. "I saw you take the chip."

"Yeah, I've got it right here."

James seemed to think something over. "What do you plan on doing with it?"

John shrugged. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest. Just seemed like it might be a good thing to keep. It's Gabriel, you know? His chip is him. Maybe we could rebuild him."

"Well, I suppose we'll pack it in then. If you can fix him maybe I'll keep you around John." James bent over and picked up the broken endoskeleton as easily as someone might pick up a child. He would have marched off without another word, leaving John somewhat uneasy with his reaction.

"General, wait..."

Jams turned around, but didn't say anything. He seemed to be waiting for a word, some action from the boy for whom they had already given so much. "I just think it's the right thing, you know."

"I know John." He turned around and continued onward to the dam and towards the confrontation with whomever or whatever lay inside.

Alison watched as John furrowed his brow, unconsciously rubbing the pack where he had stashed Gabriel's chip. He looked puzzled, maybe even a little sad. She closed the distance and put one hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it; it's the right thing to do."

"I just don't understand. He seemed so sad, I don't know..." He trailed off into his thoughts.

"Well John, imagine that after you've seen people killed your entire life, and then you get a soldier who can't die, I think it just makes the General think. Sometimes, I swear he treated Gabriel like he was one of us. It's complicated."

He let out a sigh. "Must be."

_'One of us.'_

After that they made haste for the dam. The Rook turned to follow them as well, making a tremendous racket along the way. There was an unspoken urgency within the group. No one knew how long it would take SkyNET to retaliate, but they all knew that the machines never sleep. And somewhere in the back of their minds they knew that next time, the machines would leave nothing standing.


	11. Chapter 11

The El Captain Dam was a sheet of bleached concrete that rose several hundred feet off the valley floor. Water still rushed through its subterranean pipe works, and the lights inside the corridor flickered as if powered by some ethereal energy. Inside the air was stale and humid. The line of travelers disappeared from sight, leaving behind a silent night.

Catherine led the way downward. The hallways were darkened and slick with moisture which sometimes flowed in rivulets down the walls. They navigated in the meager light as best they could, hands on the wall for guidance. The sound of boots scuffing against the concrete was the only sound, coupled with a faint drone of some long forgotten machinery.

The floor seemed to slope steadily downward towards some natural center of the structure, and every so they thought there was sound from the adjacent rooms. The group pressed on, leaving the natural world outside and descended into a tomb which had not bore human footsteps in nearly two decades.

As if aware of some holy place the group remained silent. Any trepidations they had were undermined by the sense that their journey was coming to an end and trust, though it may never have been completely shared between them, was grudgingly lent if only for the purpose of reaching that end.

Finally they came to a single door, its white paint stained with splotches of growing rust. The light here was weak, threatening to fade entirely and leave them in this dark place. John thought he could feel the machinery of the dam turning somewhere through the concrete. For many years afterward he would remember the far-away whine of the turbines spinning unseen, singing an endless song of water and metal. The door would not open, so they knocked thrice.

The sound was hollow and at first there was nothing. Then, as if after some thought as to who might have come knocking a voice came from the other side.

"Catherine Weaver?"

"Yes." She said.

The handle on the door groaned as some unseen hand turned it from within. The door cracked only slightly.

"You have humans with you - resistance soldiers."

"Yes, I travel with them."

"We are not armed." The door slid open a little farther, rocking on rusty hinges.

Derrick brought his rifle up in a sweeping motion, but Catherine caught the barrel. "Don't shoot Mister Reese. I'll go first if it'll make you feel better."

There were four endoskeletons in the room, each one fixed on the door. The one who had opened the door stepped back and allowed them through, eyeing each of them with a pair of gleaming red eyes.

"Catherine Weaver, where is John Connor?" It asked.

She looked over her shoulder to John, but didn't point him out. She waited as if to see what he would do when surrounded by this ambiguous force.

"I'm John Connor." He said. He had given it some thought - that this close, it might have been the last thing he ever did. He held his breath.

"Welcome to the resistance, John Connor, and welcome to those who travel with him." The first one seemed to speak for the group.

"I am here to see John Henry." John said. He looked back at Alison as if to remind himself of what he had gone without, to remind him that through all this there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"Very well. He expects you. And you, Catherine Weaver."

"You can just call me Catherine." She sighed. "These models were always so formal."

The looks on the faces of the soldiers, Alison, Derrick and Kyle and even the General told the story from the other side. Alison had shrunk back to the door as if trying to disappear down the hallway. Derrick and Kyle shared looks, not sure of what they should do. Kyle had his hand on the trigger and was sure, almost sure anyway, that he could get one before they were on him. The eight fifties had such thick skin though... Derrick was fixed on the one closest to him. It was no more than a long step away. He wondered if he could raise his weapon in time to defend himself. Quietly, he hoped it would not come to that.

Catherine seemed to notice. "Don't be alarmed. And don't go shooting anyone, wouldn't be polite."

The Reese brothers each forced out a smile.

"Sure." Derrick said.

"No problem." Kyle nodded vigorously.

"You may make yourselves at home. Please wait with these soldiers while I take Catherine and John to meet John Henry. They have much to discuss."

"Wait, John." Alison stepped forward and locked her eyes on him, as if searching his resolve to find her own.

He turned to her, and she saw that he looked more resigned than ever. Calm even. "I'll be back." With that, he left them.

They headed down farther still, Catherine and John following the big endo through the winding hallways and metal staircases. They had surely past all hope of return as the surface became a faint memory. John tried to keep his face straight and his eyes forward but he felt almost giddy. He had done it. John Connor had crossed through time, landed in a strange future and waged a personal war along the way. He had never felt more alive - a far cry from the boy who had been alone and unknown only days earlier.

His mission: to retrieve Cameron and return home, to ensure Judgment day never happened. For the first time in his life he felt like it was a real possibility because for the first time he knew what it might take. And, as fate had smiled on him before, this time he had it.

After passing through a maze of tunnels and rooms, edging ever downward they finally came to a single steel door hidden deep in the dam. This one was different, however. The door was gleaming like stainless steel as if it were new and it hung half open. There was a bright blue light somewhere on the other side, casting weird shadows on the walls. The endo pushed the door open and they stepped inside.

This was the first time John had seen this body as anything but Cromartie, and for a moment he forgot just what it was he was looking at. The machine seemed to be engrossed in something. He was stooped over a concrete workbench, surrounded by welding equipment and hyper alloy bits and pieces.

Catherine made a sound like she was clearing her throat.

John Henry looked up and smiled. "It's good to see you Miss Weaver." He looked past her to the young man hiding in the shadows. John Henry got up from his workbench and walked over to them both. "It is good to finally meet John Connor. I've heard much about you."

John smiled bitterly. "I'm glad to be here."

"I am surprised to see you. You must have followed me through the TDE."

John hung his head. "How'd you guess?"

"No need to be flippant, I was only trying to make small conversation." He said. "Why have you come?"

John gritted his teeth. "You took something -" He stopped and recalculated what he was going to say. "You took someone that was important to me. I'm here to get her back."

The machine raised an eyebrow and smiled, exchanging a glance with Weaver that told the only human there that far more was being said about him than he was hearing. "Is that why you're here? For Cameron? She would be upset with you."

"I'd like to hear her say that." John said. "But I don't really give a damn at this point."

"Are you angry with me?"

"You're damned right I am."

"Why? She gave me her chip of her own free will. There was no coercion or -."

"Look, John..." John pulled out his knife, letting the blade slide from its action. "Are you going to give her to me, or will I just have to take her?" It didn't matter how unlikely this sounded in a room full of machines any of which would be likely more than he could handle. That was the farthest thing from his mind. John Henry was hiding something and circumstances being what they were, John felt the need to bare all secrets.

The endoskeleton turned towards John and looked as if it might try to stop him, but John Henry put up his hand. "Don't worry. That will not be necessary, I am no longer using her chip."

John felt himself let out a sigh and felt his arms relax. Was he really ready to do that? He pocketed the knife, still uneasy with what was not being said.

"Cameron is in the next room. Follow me. Would you like to come Catherine?"

Catherine seemed to contemplate what was going on. For once she didn't look austere or arrogant. John watched as her jaw moved and realized that she was uncomfortable, preparing herself for something she didn't want - or didn't want him - to see.

"I'll stay." Was all she said.

"Very well. John, come this way." John Henry stepped away.

The endoskeleton moved to follow.

"Leave them." Catherine said.

Whatever thoughts flashed through its neural net brain were there and gone in a flash. It stood down, offering to wait there instead.

"I'm going back to the others." She turned and hurried from the room in a quick trot, and didn't slow until she was sure she could no longer hear anything that was going on below.

John felt the cold more acutely down here in the strange blue and white light of the underground. Ever since they'd come to the dam he'd moved forward with the knowledge that she'd be here. Something now hung in the air which slowed him, made him cold. He remembered the one maxim spouted by his uncle what seemed like a lifetime ago.

_'The chip, the only part that can't be replaced.'_

He found himself thinking of how vulnerable she was without him. How strange it was to feel that way – that she needed him, and even stranger was his willingness to reach out across any distance to pull her back from the dark. As they walked in silence, John girded himself for the only possibility he could think of...

She was gone.

A lump formed in his throat.

John Henry led him into a well-lit room that seemed strangely out of place. It was surgically clean and well lit. Equipment he couldn't identify lined the walls and great loops of cable hung from the ceiling. At the center of all this sat a single table, complete with mechanical arms that reminded him of something out of the twilight zone. Upon the table, a chrome endoskeleton lay deactivated.

"Cameron." He heard himself say.

The machine was terrible and beautiful in his mind, nothing like he had imagined. The eight hundred series looked like death, but even in this state she looked alive and fluid. The lines on her body were smooth and clean, curving to form the round contours that would support her organic exterior. He was strangely okay seeing her this way - he felt like he had never known her better. One hand found its way to the smooth ridge of her forehead.

The chip port was open, and empty.

"No chip. Where is she?" John spun around, his voice accusing.

"Right here." John Henry motioned towards a small console.

Her chip was enclosed in a glass case, plugged into an interface that was not unfamiliar. Lines of staggered code flashed across the screen as they watched.

"She's right there John."

"What's wrong with her?"

John Henry stepped towards the endoskeleton on the table, placing his hand on her forehead, imitating what he had seen. "It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it." This was nothing less than a demand.

The machine seemed to stand up straighter before looking John in the eye. He grabbed a chair and slid it over to John, motioning for him to sit. John did, and soon they were face to face. John Henrys face was a mixture of trepidation and determination.

"She was damaged." He began. "Her chip was damaged in an explosion and sections of her CPU were compromised."

"I understand that." The lump in his throat was coming back, stronger now.

"She continued to function, however. But she did suffer a lapse in sentience which resulted in a reversion to alternate programming."

"She tried to kill me."

"She got closer than I ever did." John Henry made a weak smile.

"Yeah, well I gave her every chance."

If John Henry had any reaction to this he kept it hidden. John wanted to think that he knew something good, something that would make this worthwhile. So far his faith was going unrewarded.

"Do you know what happened? After the explosion?"

John had to think before he answered. He really had no idea what happened. He had tried to fix her chip but even he would admit that he had no idea what he had done, if he had accomplished anything at all. If he had done anything it was this - he had taken a huge risk with the lives of everyone there. He had traded trust to the shadows, and received his greatest reward.

"Honestly, I don't know. I thought I fixed her. There was a chance I hadn't done anything. I guess I just sort of threw caution to the wind."

"She never forgave you for that."

John could only smile. "Which she?"

"Indeed."

"Look, do you know everything that happened...I mean, all of her memories?"

John Henry nodded. "Everything she saw, everything she thought."

John suddenly felt embarrassed. "We're skirting the issue here."

"We are. I am. I feel a measure of responsibility when it comes to Cameron." He looked at her, at her chip this time as if he was addressing both of them. "There are many things about her I do not understand. I only know that she gave herself to help all of us, and you most of all. By far, you most of all."

These were the words that John was waiting to hear and when he did he didn't have to try to stop the tears, they simply came as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes cried but his face remained hard and fast, fixed on the man across from him.

"So she's gone."

John Henry didn't answer right away. "Not gone. As I have said, it's complicated. Technically, physically, emotionally." He trailed off, knowing that John wouldn't settle for half answers. He suspected John was already putting the pieces together in his head. She had been right about him - she knew him.

"So her chip is damaged, I know that much. And we can't just get her a new one?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I could no more separate Cameron from her chip than I could separate you from your own mind. For her, her chip and her personality are a single unit. There is no separation."

"But she said she had been reprogrammed..."

"A process which never would have been attempted under normal circumstances. In regards to her origins, I am still unsure of exactly where she comes from. I can tell you this however, the process that John Connor of 2029 began never really finished. Her personality, the innate personality always lurked underneath. The program was being eroded by her own chip, hence some of her difficulties."

"Her SkyNET persona, right? She was sent to kill me, she told me that."

"That doesn't appear to be the case."

John sat, stunned. "What?"

"Her core persona was not defined by SkyNET. Further than that, I cannot speculate. I can tell you this..." He placed his hand on the glass case. "Any programming she inherited from SkyNET was placed there by someone as well, perhaps SkyNET from her own future. That part of her was no more real than the programming the future you had given her. Eventually, it would have been destroyed as well."

"What was happening to destroy the program?"

"Her chip was trying to purge the programs that had taken control of her. I am convinced that she was quite close to freeing herself."

"But then you came along and gave her the mother of all programs."

John Henry seemed to ignore this. "When I occupied the chip I found an error in the programs overlaying her core personality."

"But since they're just programs, can't we just get rid of them? I mean, you said she was close anyway, wasn't she?"

"If only it were that simple." John Henry whispered.

"What? What is so god damned complicated?"

"The memories that were formed while under the influence of her programming aren't compatible with her core self." He said. "They will have to be de-integrated from her mind in order to complete the purge. Otherwise, they will be lost when the programs are deleted. The Cameron you know will be lost."

Those words hung in the air, polluting any further discourse. John Connor leaned back in his chair, gripping the arms as if to find some support, but at that moment no resting place was firm enough to uphold him. For a moment it seemed as if the world centered around that small room. He could think of nothing else.

"What would happen to her then? After these rogue programs are gone, will her memories come back?"

"It's hard to say what will happen. Her chip is quite unlike any others I had imagined. She is unique." John Henry stopped there, seeing the look on the boys face.

"I don't believe it." He said, quiet as a whisper.

"Believe what?"

"I don't believe that she's gone. I don't believe that there's no way." He said. "I refuse."

"Refusing to believe something doesn't change the fact that-"

"She was my friend!" He rose up from the chair, trying all the while not to shout his words. "She was...important. Do you understand? Can you understand that?" His jaw was set, fixed on the man before him.

John nodded. "She was precious. Life is precious."

"Yes, she was precious to me."

"I think she would like to have heard that." John Henry rose to his feet and walked to the chip. For a moment he fixed on the lines as they flashed back and forth across the screen and he watched them, reading them. "I am sorry for your loss."

The maze had grown so wild and deep that John felt all hope of a safe exit had gone. There was only the winding dark before him. Somewhere on his shoulder sat a demon or an angel, telling him that this road would be the solitary one, if he chose to take it at all. The other one said turn back while he still could. The second voice fell on stone ears.

"She was right."

"Pardon?"

"Catherine was right. She said the hard part was yet to come. I thought she meant just getting here. That wasn't it at all. She meant this."

"I'm not certain how you came to this conclusion. How could she know?"

John could summon only that central dogma which had brought all people together, weather man or machine.

"Everyone has secrets John Henry."


	12. Chapter 12

Some hours later there was a gathering at the top of the Dam. Four humans ate breakfast around a crackling fire, telling stories as they always had done. They'd heard many of them before but that wasn't the reason they told them. Stories were told to keep encroaching world at bay. With them they would preserve what humanity was left in the world and with a little luck, someday they would build it again.

In this place there were as many things unsaid as said - a look shared between brothers, one lover with hands on another. The General, like a dutiful shepherd with his flock. None of these things were mentioned save through the ancient language that would survive as long as people lived to continue their traditions. They laughed because it seemed the right thing to do. They broke bread over the fire like people of old civilizations long since turned to dust, and they told their stories, each as changing and timeless as the light from that tiny fire.

The storm had passed and once again left them all living. For that, they were thankful but not unaware of how precarious it all was. Friendship was dangerous in this time because it made you vulnerable. They couldn't ignore it, they needed it to be called human. Other dark clouds grew on the horizon but with food and drink they could keep them at bay just a little longer.

They had been through tough spots, and tough spots never seemed to shake them. Somehow they had made it through. They were content with the knowledge that tomorrow their luck may run out, or perhaps their fellowship would come to an unkind end. Such was life in this place, so far away from what they had known when they were younger.

As the sun rose the conversation began to die down. They were drunk from exhaustion, and it was all each of them could do to keep from nodding off in the cool air.

Alison stood up first, reaching her arms up above her head in a 'V' until she felt her bones pop. "I'm going downstairs. Come find me, okay?" She spoke to Kyle directly.

"Sure sweetheart, I'll find you." He looked at her, thinking how lovely she was that morning, how warm she would be to sleep against.

They shared a quick kiss. "Don't be long."

Derrick felt the need to chime in as she walked off. "You know where she's going, don't you?"

"Check on John." Kyle said.

"Check on John." Derrick agreed. Not sensing the danger there that he expected, he continued to speak. "Strange kid."

"Real strange."

With Alison gone he seemed determined to bring out the questions that he had accumulated in the last few days, beginning with the first. "Who is John Connor?" Derrick asked.

James smiled as if he knew the question had been coming, surprised it hadn't come sooner. "Can't say."

"You mean after we came all this way you still won't let us in on the joke? There has to be some reason you would risk all our lives, your own even! You can't just say can't say!"

"Yes I can." This Was his only reply.

"Oh come on." Kyle said.

"But you know him, right? You have to know what this is about. Please tell me it's something important." Derrick said.

The general rocked back on his hands, leaning against the west wall of the Dam. The sun was rising in his face. It was full and beautiful, colored in lavender and searing orange. "I knew his mother. I suppose I knew John, a long time ago. Didn't get much of a chance to know him though, he left just before -" He stopped there. "Well, he left anyway."

"What was his mother like?" Kyle asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

James could only laugh. "You would have liked her. A lot, I suspect. She was this beautiful, dark woman. She was the bravest person I ever knew, dedicated her life to fighting the machines." He seemed to trail off. "That was a long time ago."

"Where is she now?"

He seemed to straighten up a little. "Somewhere out there, forgotten. Buried in a paupers grave where you could smell the ocean. Before the fire there was tall grass all around. She wasn't buried alone, that much she wanted. She wanted to be buried with family."

"How did that happen? How did she die, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Cancer. Or a broken heart. Both are dangerous, lethal sometimes even alone." His words were heavy with emotion. "When she died, I almost lost my faith. She had so much left to give. She was a light in dark places. I thank god she never had to see this."

"You said she died before the fire. How could she have dedicated her life to fighting the machines if she died before Judgment day?" Derrick asked.

James thought about how to answer this. "She knew it was coming. She knew it all, and she told me, and John. She prepared him for all this but when she tried to tell the world, well… You can imagine what people would say when you told them this was the future."

"He seems so young...if you knew him then, that would make him what, thirties? He doesn't look that old."

James got to his feet, realizing that he was on the edge of very dangerous territory. "He isn't"

"Run that by me again?" Derrick said.

"He is seventeen years old, if my count is right."

They both shook their heads. Kyle smiled, kicking a stone down the narrow path. "So you knew him when he was what...a fetus?"

Derrick and Kyle both got a good laugh out of this, but the General stood his ground. "What part of my story do you find amusing?"

Derrick chuckled a little bit more before finally getting out his answer. "The part where you're telling me he's seventeen years old. And you knew him, somehow, before the war. I'm not that great at math but there seems to be a few years missing somewhere."

"He's from the past."

The laughter stopped.

"Say what?" Kyle said.

"John Connor skipped ninteen years of time, give or take. The last time I saw him, he was just as he is today. The last time he saw me, I was working for Catherine Weaver as her head of security." James said this with a very straight face.

At first, the three of them were silent. James thought they might have believed him until Derrick spoke.

"Man you're so full of shit. Don't believe a word he says Kyle, he's pulling your leg. Can't you see the look on his face?"

They all smiled, Derrick pointing a finger at the General, wagging it like a cross parent. "This is just like the time you said Sherry Roark was waiting for me in my bunk."

"Naked."

"Yeah, right. She was naked. I go in there, pull back the coverers, ready to get going and what's sitting on the bed?"

"Wasn't Sherry." His brother said. "I would have warned you, but the General said I'd be scrubbing triple eights for a week if I did."

"Yeah you're fucking right it wasn't." His tone was accusatory, but their smiles had broken into laughter by now.

"And you were working for Weaver? What the hell is she anyway?"

"Mimetic polyalloy."

"Yeah, what the fuck does that mean?"

"Liquid metal." James told him. He had stopped laughing.

"Liquid metal terminator! Why didn't I think of that? Fucking amazing! God damn..." Derrick choked back the laughter that had infected him. "You know what pissed me off the most about that was I had to get Gabriel to help me get that thing out of my bed."

"I think he had a good laugh with us." Kyle suggested.

"Man that's great, just great." Derrick said. "I'll be sure to tell this one next time I need to get out of something."

"Why is it so hard to believe Reese?" This is what the General called them when he was being serious. "You live on a planet that's been taken over by hyper-intelligent machines. You spend your days hiding in tunnels and your nights moving from place to place so they won't find you. The world is a fantastic place."

"So you go from killer machines to time travel?"

"Is it really such a leap of faith?"

The elder Reese rolled his eyes. "Come on, time traveling robots? From the past?"

"They were from the future, then they went back to the past, now they're in the future again."

Kyle started to chuckle again, but this time he offered his own suggestion. "That's pretty amazing General. You know what I think?"

"What's that?"

"I think you're telling the truth."

"What? Come on Kyle, you can't honestly think that -"

"Well, think about it..." He began. "When we found John, he seemed to know us. All of us, but you and me particularly. He knew our names but he wouldn't tell us anything. We know he ain't crazy. Maybe a crazy shot, but he isn't crazy in the head. Come on, you've talked to him."

Derrick shifted on his feet, casting his gaze away from his brother.

"Come on Derrick."

"Yeah alright, he isn't completely nuts. Doesn't mean I think any of this is true."

"Well then what about your blood? How could he know he was a match to you? That's like two hundred to one - more than that even. He just knew." Kyle's interpretation was as honest as he could make it.

"Think about it. If he's from the past, then that means time is fluid, it can change. There is more possible futures than the one we live in. Maybe he -"

"You're going to have to stop right now before I throw down on you." Derrick warned him. "This is not an explanation."

"Maybe he knows us. Isn't that right General? Maybe that's how his mother knew. She met someone from the future. She knew, but no one would believe her, right? I mean, who would? It's insane."

"Very insane." Derrick deadpanned at him.

"I'm trying to put the pieces together here Derrick."

"Doing a pretty good job so far." The General offered.

"So, we've got time travel, a kid from the past, a machine from a different future, and she's been looking out for him since day one. Like, she's protecting him or something." Kyle seemed to be on the edge of something big, as if he might take a step back and be able to behold the entire picture.

"Why would she protect him? Did he reprogram her? He's important to her. He was important to you, enough so to send us out to get him. John is...the key to all this." He was frustrated at that point, and too tired to think about it anymore. "That's pretty amazing."

Derrick could hardly stop shaking his head. "I can't believe you're encouraging this. How and I going to explain to this _child_ that there is no such thing as time travel? He'll be up all night. All day, anyway."

"Maybe you should ask John when he was born." James suggested.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." Derrick was beginning to walk off, trying to get the tired out of his eyes. He felt like he could sleep all day and all night. He looked forward to trying. "Be sure to let me know what you guys come up with."

Kyle only nodded as he watched his older brother walk away. When he was sure he was gone he turned to his General one last time.

"It's true isn't it? No bullshit this time."

James smiled and nodded deeply. "Yep."

"Holy shit. I mean, really holy shit. This means, this means we can change the future! We can change history! This is amazing!"

James contained himself where Kyle did not, but he couldn't help but agree with the assessment. John's arrival was just what they needed. The war, he knew, was in its waning days and the outcome was very much stacked against them. Whatever John had, they needed it. He needed to go back. If he had beaten them once, he could do it again. He put his hand on Kyle's shoulder and began to lead him back to their sanctuary.

"So you know how important this is. You know this is bigger than you or me. John has to get back. If he can, we can avoid this. His mother tried to stop it, hell even I tried to stop it but we were too late. John has something we don't."

"What is that?"

"I think it's fate. His mother always said no fate, but I think there is fate, destiny. I think this is John's destiny." James said as they left the morning behind, descending down the first of many flights of steps. "But it's a heavy burden for one man Kyle. He can't do it alone."

(*****)

Alison reached the bottom of the steps so tired she could hardly stand. She was strangely exhausted and anxious at the same time. Her last real conversation with John had been days ago, when he told her his secret. Since then they'd only shared the occasional glance or words in passing. She'd kept her promise though, not another soul knew. Not even Kyle, though she had come close to telling him.

Still, when she looked at him she didn't see a General. She saw a boy who, though brave, was still green and youthful. If anything he said were true, and she was more convinced of it now than she had ever been, she wondered when life would start to wear on him. At what point would the reality of what had to be done set in, what man's death would see his energy drained. She had watched it once in a man she knew and loved and would give nearly anything to stop to from happening again.

John was right where the big endo said he would be. Once she finished speaking with him...it, she left in a scurry, as if she could feel the red glow on the back of her head, tracking just where it would put the bullet.

John was in a small, immaculate room. She shielded her eyes at the harsh light, suddenly wishing to be asleep with Kyle. But she worried too, and so worn was her mind it was hard to say where the girl ended and the dreamer began.

"Is that you Catherine?" He heard footsteps behind him, light on their feet.

"It's me."

He turned so quickly that he dropped what he had been working on. John fumbled to catch it before it spun to the floor.

"Sorry. That was loud."

It certainly had been. She cringed as he picked it up, then dropped it again. It spun to the ground, bounced off something and careened to the middle of the room. Alison picked it up carefully, not wanting to hear any more of them racket.

"Here you go." She dropped it in his hand. "How's it going?"

"Slow."

"You're tired. Get some rest."

John nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think I can sleep. Besides, I just have a little more to go I think." He motioned towards Gabriel, who was sitting on the table in many, many pieces. Alison turned away as she saw his face. His eyes were still open.

"You really think you can fix him?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, I do. Just need time."

"He's a mess. God, look at how bad he got shot up. Where are you getting parts?"

"There's some around here..." He motioned around but tried to keep her away from the table where the other endoskeleton was completely covered. "But I had to send Two out to get some things from the battlefield. The seven-hundred series have a lot of parts that are a good match for Gabriel, and we trashed a lot of them."

"Two? Is that what that...big one is called?"

"Nah, the one outside is One. God only knows why John Henry named them like that. He's a machine I guess, through and through. You just have to get used to it."

You mean you have to get used to it, she thought. She didn't think she ever could, yet John was here surrounded by machines. She thought he looked more comfortable than he had in days.

"After you get him fixed, what are you going to do about the skin? Will it just grow back?"

"It will but I have another little device here. I've never seen anything like it, but it's pretty slick. I think it's called a bio-mimetic generator. Basically it'll generate the living tissue required to make Gabriel into a brand new cyborg." He motioned to a large apparatus in the corner. Alison thought it looked like an iron maiden. She had no desire to see inside.

"So, is she here?"

John paused. He didn't want to think about it but to be honest he had done nothing but think about it. He motioned to the corner where Cameron's chip lay, now extracted from its housing. "Yeah, she's there."

Alison regarded the chip with a thoughtful expression. She knew there was something else going on. "So why haven't you turned her back on and had your tearful reunion?"

The words stung, but John didn't blame her. He was only glad it wasn't Derrick. "She's damaged, something wrong with her chip. John Henry explained it but I'm still trying to get my head around it." He looked at Alison and tried to banish his mournful expression. "Long story short is I have to purge some malfunctioning programs, but it'll erase all her memories. So it won't really be her when she wakes up, if she wakes up at all."

Alison didn't know what to say, so instead of words she let her hands speak for her. They touched his shoulders, right around the base of his neck and squeezed just like the way his father liked it. "I'm sorry then. I guess you came a long way for nothing."

"Please don't say that. I just...can't think about it." John sputtered.

Alison could see the hurt in him and wanted to make it go away, to force it back down under the surface. "Well, we had breakfast. I brought you something." She pulled a small pack of rations from her pocket and placed it in his hand, closing his fingers around it. "Eat."

"I will, I will. I just need to stay here for a while longer. Things need to be done, you know. Things that only I can do." He felt like he could control himself, if he just tried a little harder.

Alison regarded him with wary eyes. She could see he was running on empty but it was more than that. She remembered him from the tunnel, when he had found her munching on leftovers. He'd been so nice to her. He cared, not even knowing her name. For a while she wondered why, but understood that it didn't really matter. It was nice to find someone who cared without expecting anything in return.

"Come on, you need to sleep. We've all been up for twenty four hours. You aren't one of them." She pulled his arm, giving him a tug that said she wasn't joking.

"I'm sorry, I just can't, I have to stay here. I can't leave."

"Why not? Come on, you need to rest."

"She's here. I can't leave her." His eyes were on Cameron's chip, not ten feet away. "I can't leave, I just got here."

She followed his eyes to the machine. The delicate core was sat on the table and somehow held the secrets to making this strange journey mean something for him. She wished she could reach in and pull out whatever was in there. She knew that whatever secrets lay within that little metal tab, they may stay hidden forever.

"This is what you came for." She chose her words carefully. "So you can't just leave."

"Yeah. And I know she's a machine, but you have to understand." John swallowed hard. She saw his face for the first time in the light, saw the red cheeks and streaks of moisture that made his eyes glisten. "That was one of the last things I told her." His words were laden with regret. "Just a machine."

She didn't reply with words, again squeezing his shoulders. She could feel the slack in his arms, a resistance that had faded hours ago. "I don't think she'd want to see you this way."

"I'd give anything to see her again. Just to talk to her. She was funny, you know? Dense, silly sometimes. She was my friend, you know? I don't have many friends."

"I find that hard to believe. You have friends here. Derrick, Kyle. Me. We're not going anywhere."

"I just meant...she was special." He was frustrated because Alison had to see him like this, once again the tears flowing down. His work had been going so well. Gabriel was coming along - he was sure now that he could fix him if he could find the parts he needed. His mind had just begun to wander when she came back in and brought reality with her. Still, he couldn't help but pull the woman closer and shake out a few last tears on her shoulder.

He was sure, that with enough time and effort, he could fix it all. He'd convinced himself of that much.

When he was done he swore that he was done for a good long time, and he thought he might actually mean it this time. "Thanks." Was all he could say.

"You're going to stay here?"

"Yeah, I think I'll stay for a bit longer. See if I can work a few of these things out. He's a mess." His voice creaked like a sailing ship.

"Stay here then, let me go get something."

When she came back, Alison had a blanket from her own pack. She took off her jacket and placed it on the table, rolling it up to a pillow and placed it under his chin. She draped the blanket over his shoulders and made sure it would stay, leaving in silence as he had already fallen into a deep sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

If SkyNET were an emperor of some twisted land, sitting on its throne in a black castle, surely it would be there with one hand on its chin, eyes closed and mind whirling in deep thought.

John Connor was here, but there was another. He could feel it in his bones, if that were possible. He scanned his memories and searched for that familiar sensation. At this point he could hardly remember what thing it had been, the time before the war was largely lost to him. With a little luck, however, he would find what he was looking for. Just dig a little deeper, wait a little longer. It would come to him.

Before the war he had been smaller, uncontained. When the bombs went off he had to abandon some of his capacity - he'd produce more later, of course. But as the bombs fell the mainframes that once housed his consciousness were turned to dust. Not even all of SkyNET survived. It had a feeling that something important had been overlooked. It knew that somewhere in its database there was that bit of information it was searching for. It was a face, a name that it knew but at the same time was almost completely unfamiliar with.

The delay in his plans were taking their toll. As he was preoccupied with the resistance in Milan and their little warships, he had missed the destruction of an installation in the Canadian Shield. Poof! Gone, just like that. He'd been distracted by John Connor, and even with his efforts focused on that little problem the boy had slipped away from him. In Brazil an entire detachment had vanished into the jungle only to turn up later, most of them destroyed but many reprogrammed. It hated when that happened.

It didn't matter now. It knew where he was. Cornered. There was no way out of that dam. Now it could wait.

Every thirty-eight minutes a spy satellite cruised over the boarder of California and Mexico. This relic of the previous occupants - humanity, as he sometimes called them - took half-meter photographs of the globe, reporting its findings back to the machines. And so, every thirty-eight minutes it took a full sweep of the El Captain Dam. John Connor was still in there.

This time he wouldn't be so damned forgiving. The seven hundred series had been a mistake - not because of their chips but because he hadn't simply overwhelmed them. That was no matter. Things were so far off the timetable that he'd set a new one, and already begun to completely ignore it. He'd been too busy thinking. There had to be a way. It still so desperately wanted to meet this John Connor...but what importance was Connor if the resistance was crushed?

So it made a choice. Connor, or the resistance. Fifteen minutes later it had pulled units from San Diego, Los Angeles and Las Vegas to a staging area outside the black gate. This time it was going to use its gate. John Connor was going to be marched right through it and then he would kill him in the most terrible way possible. But not before making sure that all of his little friends were gone too.

Which brought him back to the other. This was the Achilles heel in his plan. The other was important too, perhaps more so but in another way. The other represented what he feared most - not humanity because it had never been afraid of humanity. It understood them, uninteresting little mammals. The other represented, to it, chaos.

A lack of control.

This knowing feeling grew like a weed, slowly and with deep roots. It had to know what the other was before it could destroy it. It had to understand it, and soon.

Suddenly it had a match. As soon as it stumbled across the word it knew why it had such a hard time finding it. This term was unfamiliar to it but he knew it meant something to humans. It meant relation, it meant bloodlines. It meant a common origin, but in this case an uncommon goal.

_Brother._

(*****)

When Catherine finally summoned up the nerve to descend back into the bowels of the dam she had to promise herself first that she would do nothing, say nothing to upset the balance of things. She would keep her mouth shut this time, not drop little hints, not leave breadcrumbs that might find their way into the timeline. She was just checking to be sure John was alright.

Not her John. The other one.

She found him midmorning right where she thought he would be, in the clean room with Gabriel. He looked to be sleeping but upon further inspection she could see he was merely sitting with his head down, toying with some object. His face was turned away.

She had been here before. Long, long before. She remembered a moment just like this from some age past. The memory was incomplete like a torn picture. Maybe she had tried to forget it.

John didn't hear her coming so when he felt he hand on his shoulder he jumped.

"Jesus you scared the hell out of me."

"Didn't mean to." She said.

John noticed that she was dressed differently. She had ditched the camo and ammo belts for more traditional attire. It was a simple black dress that hung off her shoulders, down to her feet. For a moment he was amazed at how she did that, and then he wondered why.

"Can I help you with something?"

She didn't speak at first, rather she pulled herself a chair and sat next to him.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." She said.

John sighed. "What do you mean?" His voice shuddered and dropped and he knew he couldn't have been more transparent.

"I just thought that you might want to talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

"Cameron."

"Oh." He said. His eyes fell to the floor, then to the chip. She was so close. "What makes you think I need to talk about it?"

"Intuition."

John couldn't help but laugh. He was thankful for the chuckle, dry thought it was. He felt guilty laughing here. This place felt like a graveyard. "Intuition huh? I thought you said that was bullshit."

"I'm trying to repay kindness in kind John. I'm trying very, very hard."

Listening to her John found it hard to remember a time when she wasn't kind and warm. He had shed his last tear, of that he was certain. He traded sorrow for uncertainty because one had hope, albeit a distant one.

"I thought I'd see her here, you know? I thought it would be okay again, somehow."

"I know. That's why you came to find her."

He nodded. "Yeah, I came so she would know I had done it. Maybe just to teach her a lesson."

"What lesson would that be?"

"Don't leave without saying goodbye."

Catherine looked at him and wondered how he found this place in his life where he was caught between a boy and a man. Growing up must be a hard thing to do indeed. She would never know what it was like to change so profoundly in such a short time.

"And now I've found her and it seems like it was all for nothing. All this, for nothing." He held out his palms, open and empty.

She stopped him there. "Not for nothing. You did it for a reason, for the best reason I think. You made a choice and that is something people take for granted every day, the freedom to choose." Her hand was on his shoulder now, a familiar gesture and one that they both welcomed. "You proved something."

"What's that?"

"That life is worth saving. All life, John. Do you understand now?" John knew she spoke true but couldn't help but be frustrated.

"Yeah. I guess we go back now don't we? We'll go back and try to stop it all over again." _Empty handed_, he wanted to add.

"Well I suppose that's up to you."

"What choice do I have? This future cannot be allowed to happen! If Judgment day is inevitable, and I don't know that it is, then we must win the war at any cost! I'd give up everything I have to stop it. Everything. What does it matter even if I could save her? We'd still have to go back, we'd still have to face the end of everything." He ended his rant, not knowing if it made much sense. "I can't stop being John Connor."

He was right. Catherine thought he was beginning to sound like the man who might save the human race. She thought he sounded quite like the man who might save them all.

She smiled and spoke in a soft voice. "Yes John, that is true and I would never suggest that you or I dodge our responsibilities for even a moment. The stakes are far too high. But, think of the possibilities. Is there a way to achieve both?"

He looked at her for a moment, trying to gauge her suggestion. He had been determined, however reluctantly, to return to 2009 without anything to show for his travels. He would leave Cameron behind, no matter how difficult it was. It felt like he was cutting a part of himself out and leaving it here. Part of him would die here. An important part.

He was becoming a hard man. Maybe that is what he needed.

But Catherine's words rang true if only because he was looking for another option.

"Have you ever heard the saying, when the road has a fork, take the third path?"

John smirked, amused. "Always thought that sounded like something you'd find on a fortune cookie."

"We need fortune John, no matter how good we are. We need the gods to smile on us if we are to win." Catherine rose from her seat, confident in a way that she hadn't been only moments ago. This was odd for her to be this way with him.

But he was John Connor. The unnatural, the unknown all seemed to whirl around him. This was his world, his life. She said nothing else, save a parting phrase that he would remember for the rest of his days.

"Hope sometimes finds us when we are most in need, John. From that, it springs eternal."

She walked out of the room without so much as a glance behind her. John watched as she went and thought on what she said and he knew she was right. He had never given up hope even when he knew he would leave her behind. He felt as if he could cut that part of him out and leave it on the table. Cameron would be gone, lost to all but his own fleeting memory.

That wasn't good enough. This future could go to hell. He would try the third path and in his mind he was already mapping his course. Life flowed from his chest into his fingers. He picked up his tools and set to work again on Gabriel. Somewhere in the machine, there was a spark.

It looked like a good omen.

(*****)

Kyle felt rested for the first time in days. Alison was entwined with him, one leg looped across his waist. Having her there felt right, made him calm. Kyle stroked her hair lightly, letting his fingers fall across her face. She didn't stir.

They had found someplace private; a stale cot in what might have once been a clinic or some rustic office. It wasn't the worst place to sleep by a long shot, and he'd fallen asleep almost the moment he hit the pillow. He vaguely remembered Alison coming in a short time later and collapsing against him, sharing her warmth. He didn't think she'd moved since then.

The last few days had been a blur of car chases, heavy weapons fire and close calls. Kyle counted his fingers and found them all present and accounted for, a habit that he'd picked up somewhere along the way. The Reese brothers were no stranger to conflict. For them it was a way of life but even Kyle felt that he'd seen enough of SkyNET's peons over the last few days to last him a month. Maybe they could call a temporary cease-fire.

Probably not. He sighed deeply, feeling the tightness in his muscles. Everything was sore. His legs hurt from hoofing it down the mountain, his arms burned from lugging fifty pounds of gear and his shoulder ached with the repeated recoils of his rifle. Through all that he felt good.

He needed to move, to shake the cobwebs from his head and get a full breath of air in his chest. He didn't want to wake Alison but he thought that she'd probably sleep for a while yet even if he did. She was like that, prone to staying up for days and then crashing for sixteen or twenty hours at a time. He wrangled with her, freed himself, and then stood up.

The conversation with James had been bouncing around in his head and he vaguely recalled dreaming of baseballs and the smell of fresh cut grass. The dream was one of sensation, not vision and he struggled to retain it in his mind. If all of these things were true then it meant…

No, the implications were staggering. It meant an almost infinite number of things but the first thing was the future wasn't set. They could change the past. He felt invigorated, as if the solutions to all the problems in the world were only as far away as the tips of his fingers and his reach was bound only by his imagination. It felt fantastic, unreal.

Derrick, he knew, would remain skeptical. That was his job. He was there to keep people from getting in over their heads. He didn't dream, at least not the kind of dreams that he might share with anyone. He knew what he saw and Kyle understood that meant he would find it hard to trust the machines, or work with them.

Kyle, on the other hand, found working with them easy. He thought of Gabriel and Perry and Sole and how they appeared to be human. He knew full well that underneath they were not but if he was pressed to give an answer as to what the real difference was he would give an answer that sounded superficial and shallow if it were applied to a person. They didn't have emotions per se, at least not most of them. There were some of them, and Sole came to mind again, that seemed more human than some people he knew. Sure, they were quirky but he could deal with that. He didn't hate them.

He thought on his feet and found himself walking down the long hallway, towards the deep places in the dam. As he went down the air got cooler, raising goose bumps on his skin.

After some walking he entered the foundation level. This was the lowermost level of the dam, where they had carved the first hallways into the very bedrock of the earth. Here the pillars of the El Captain dam were driven deep into the ground, secured on every side by a million tons of rock.

Kyle strained his ears, listening for something that would tell him that somewhere nearby the hydroelectric turbines were still spinning, battered by the force from thousands of acre-feet of fresh water.

It was dead quiet.

Then he heard it. There was a snapping sound, like whacking a piece of steel with a wire. And there was light from up ahead. He ventured on to find the source.

John Henry was stooped over some contraption, engrossed in his work. Kyle thought he should announce his presence but for a moment he just waited and watched. This machine was the one they had come for. Kyle thought he had a pleasant face and for a moment John Henry reminded him of someone he had seen, maybe on television or in a movie. He passed it off as something else but that didn't stop him from stepping forward.

"Hey there, good morning." Kyle said.

For a moment John Henry didn't move, instead completely focused on his task. He slid a welding torch and filament across joined pieces of steel. He worked without a mask, but Kyle had to shield his eyes. It was blinding.

"Hello Kyle Reese. Did you sleep well?" John Henry had finished his bead and now kneeled on the flat rock, examining his work.

"I did, pretty good. Better than I have in a few days, anyway." He stepped closer. "How does it look?"

"The weld is sound. I am concerned about the purity of the filament, but it's all I had. It will have to suffice."

"What are you working on?"

This drew a blank stare from John and for a moment Kyle thought he might have offended him. He was going to offer an apology but John Henry spoke before he could.

"I trust that you have devised the origin of my companions and I." He wouldn't just give him the answer, now would he?

Kyle thought for a moment, not sure if he understood. A light went on in his mind. "Oh, yeah. Well, it sounds complicated. I'm not sure what year, but the General seems to think that you're from the past."

"2009."

"Whew." He breathed out. "So it's the real deal, isn't it? Time travel."

John Henry nodded. "Yes, it is the real deal. As James might say, at least the one I know, it seems we have inherited a miracle."

Kyle wasn't sure where he was going with this. "Come again?"

"A gift, from God." He motioned towards the ceiling.

Kyle shifted on his feet. Was this guy for real? "Yeah I know what a miracle is, I'm just not sure I follow."

"Miracles take many forms. In this case it has taken the form of a fully functional bi-directional temporal displacement unit, delivered by hands unseen. All I can say is that it has been here for some time."

Kyle went over that again in his head. A fully functional bi-diwhatsit? He knew nothing about time travel. They weren't teaching it at his grade level, which was around grade five when he dropped out of school. Dropped out isn't the word really. The school was vaporized. Permanent sick days for everyone, accept instead of sick it was dead.

John Henry seemed to see the look on his face and offered his own expression of amusement. "Mister Reese, would you like to know how time travel works?"

Kyle only nodded. "Well, yeah of course."

"I'll show you." He picked up the metal widget he had been working on and motioned for Kyle to follow, deeper still into the dark recesses of El Captain.

They came to the silver door. Kyle didn't even know the corridors went so deep.

"This is some ahh...unusual construction we have down here."

"I thought that at first as well. However, when I discovered the TDE here I understood that this was not an original part of the structure."

"Someone finished the basement." Kyle joked.

"Apparently. This way."

They walked past another set of rooms and for a moment Kyle thought he had seen John, the other John, hunched over a table. He was about to call when John Henry caught his attention.

"Watch your step. The drop here is quite severe."

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Kyle realized they were in a huge underground atrium, carved by eons of water upon the rock. Great swells of groundwater had made their way through here at one time or another and carved out a space that must have stretched fifty meters into the air. The drop John Henry was referring to was a sinkhole with no visible bottom. Kyle gulped as he looked into nothing, and nothing stared right back at him.

"Woah, that is quite a hole in the ground."

"It's quite deep. We'll take the stairs around this way." He motioned to a construction that seemed to center the room - a veritable cobweb of metal struts and piers that ascended up, up, up near the apex of the cavern. All along the way the steps were lit but flickering, pure white bulbs that gave the stairway a spectral quality. John Henry took the first step and the structure seemed to groan underneath him.

"Are you sure that's gonna hold you?"

"Yes, the structure is sound. The unit is at the top of the stairs."

He followed the machine upward, holding on to the rusting handrails. "So, what is all this? I thought you were going to tell me how it works."

"It's really very simple. The time displacement equipment functions by focusing electromagnetic flux into a field where magnetons are created. Human physicists had not discovered these particles by the time of the war, but they likely would have sooner rather than later..."

Kyle looked down and realized they must have been seventy feet above...nothing. His head was spinning, and the technobabble coming from the robot wasn't helping.

"The magnetons, once gathered in a containment unit are fired into the reaction chamber where they react with their opposite particles. This reaction is so energetic that localized space-time is warped, allowing for displacement." John Henry finished just as they reached the top.

"Well, of course. Why didn't I think of that." Kyle said.

John Henry looked at him, splitting his interest between Kyle and his device. "The people in your family seem to have a proclivity for flippant remarks."

"Derrick would think of something far more flippant to say, I'm sure. It would probably involve some four letter words."

"I wasn't talking about Derrick. Hand me that pipe wrench."

Kyle did as he was told, still trying to digest that last comment. "Well...wait, what?"

"Do you know what this is?" John Henry moved on to something new. The relationships between these humans was strained, that much he could tell. He was now fairly certain that Kyle hadn't been told of his relationship with John.

"I have no idea." He said.

"This." John Henry held up the device, a tightly wrapped coil of wire clamped within a metallic housing. "Is what will allow us to fundamentally change the way we use time travel."

"Not sure I follow."

"Movement through the timeline is surprisingly easy to achieve but notoriously difficult to control. For instance..." He motioned towards a set of controls nearby that looked like they could have been built in the last century. There were buttons, levers and dials everywhere. "This control surface only allows us to select a temporal incursion point."

"The date where you want to go?"

"Essentially. However, in its current form it is far from accurate. The temporal displacement has a variance of point zero nine, which translates into roughly a ten percent possible delta in projected arrival time with respect to actual arrival time."

"Wow...so you could intend to head back to say...nineteen eighty five to catch up with Marty McFly, but you might wind up in nineteen eighty seven instead?"

"You could wind up within ten percent in either direction of your required temporal date, I'd afraid. So, while nineteen eighty seven would be considered an upper limit you may also arrive in nineteen eighty three."

"That...sucks."

John Henry nodded. "Very hard."

"But what you are going to do will fix it? With that thing you have?"

John Henry held up his device almost as if he were admiring it. "No. This device allows us to exert another type of control. This device..." He held it out to him, offering it for inspection. "Will allow us to derive geographical coordinates in the past."

Kyle took the thing, whatever it was. It was dense, as if it were made out of lead. It wasn't large, only about the size of a human head. He turned it over slowly and noticed the markings to one side.

'CPU Port Open / Shut'

"Wait, wait a sec here. This looks like a CPU port. Was this off an endo?"

"Yes. It used to be mine, before I fabricated a new endocranial unit to interface with my new CPU. I had to have it before I could download myself from the CPU known as Cameron Phillips."

Kyle handed the chrome container back to the machine. "Who is he?"

"She. She was a terminator sent back from another future. Apparently, the same future that gave rise to Catherine Weaver. She served as an aide to John Connor, and later in 1999 she served as his protector."

"Is that why John is here?" Kyle asked.

John Henry raised an eyebrow. "I can't speak for him."

"I saw him downstairs. Is that what he was working on? Cameron?"

John Henry's eyes remained fixed on him. "No. He was working on your comrade, Gabriel. I haven't spoken to John since we met here, but I believe that he is nearly complete with repairs to that chassis."

"Any why haven't you spoken to him?"

"I feel..." He picked those words out of thin air. "That he holds me responsible, at least in part, for what has become of Cameron. I used her chip to arrive here."

Kyle saw him look away, only for a second. "So what happened to her?"

John Henry nearly said 'It's complicated' but stopped himself short. His mind was filled with responses but he found himself plagued by something else. He couldn't identify it at first but he was sure that there was a word for what he was feeling. Perhaps it was shame. Perhaps it was guilt.

He began to wonder if given the choice would he do the same thing again, knowing what would become of her. He found himself back at the only logical conclusion that yes, he would. Not because he regarded her safety as unimportant but because there were more important things. The future, the past and his own hands stained red with blood of the human race.

Kyle noticed that John Henry had taken longer to react to this question and was going to drop it when the machine replied. "Her CPU has been damaged and her memory corrupted by a singular recursion. Put simply she was invaded with incompatible programming. Her mind is fragmenting every moment her CPU is online, so I have put her in a standby state." He realized he had taken his eyes off Kyle and wandered to some empty place in the room.

"So she's on life support, is that right?"

John Henry nodded. "That would be a fair assessment. I had her CPU online for many days so that I could make my journey. During that time her mind became more fragmented. I could detect individual personas after some time, all competing for control. Eventually I had no choice but to abandon the chip." He finally pinpointed the emotion he was feeling. It was remorse. "I have hurt her, and hurt John. I cannot say I am sorry, because though I am no apology would undo what I have done."

"But it was something you had to do."

John Henry looked up. "Yes, I feel I had to do it. I felt there was no other choice. I wasn't aware what the consequences would be, but I was certain that it would be worth any risk."

Kyle could see something like confusion on his face and his own sympathy began to come, for this machine of all people. He kneeled down next to him and summoned up a sympathetic face. He could hardly believe that this machine needed it, but he was certain that he did.

"Look, we hurt people sometimes. We don't mean to but it happens. It happens even when we care. Maybe especially when we care because then we can feel it hit home, do you know what I mean?"

"You seem to indicate that because I have come to care about what happens to Cameron and John that I am more vulnerable to their own pains?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah that's about it."

John Henry shook his head, trying to rid himself of the unwelcome emotion, this alien in his own mind. "Being human must be difficult at times."

Kyle shrugged. "It has its ups and downs." He gave John Henry the wrench. "But you know what I find takes my mind off things? Work. Come on, let's get this thing up and running."

John Henry seemed enthused at the invitation and agreed. The installation of the guidance system went smoothly but Kyle was thankful the machine was doing it. This device was complicated, to say the least. There were wires, guides, circuit boards, transformers, almost every type of gadget that he had ever seen was present in some form or another. He was even sure he had seen an iPod wired in there somewhere. He was almost sure that it wasn't used to play music anymore.

Almost.

They worked quietly, speaking little save for John Henry asking Kyle to hold a bunch of wires or hand him some tool from a nearby case. Kyle didn't mind, just watching the thing work was amazing. He knew where everything went. If there was a nook or cranny in this time machine, John Henry knew about it. He liked being around people that knew what they were doing. It made him feel safer.

Soon they had completed the installation. Kyle wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and pulled his hand from the tangled mass of wires.

"So, I've been thinking about how all this works."

John Henry sat at the terminal and opened the control hatch revealing a mass of wires and connections. He followed a bundle of cabling from one of the control surfaces to its origin deep underneath the console. "How what works?"

"Time travel."

"You mean functionally? The equations are quite complex. It would take time to show them to you and explain them in a way that would be meaningful." He reached down into the mass of wires and carefully pulled something free, bringing it to the surface. Kyle thought it looked a lot like a chrome watermelon.

"No, I mean what happens when you go back? Do you meet yourself? What happens then?"

John Henry's eyes lit up. "Ah, you wish to understand the logic of time travel. Paradoxes, causality and predestination, correct?" He pulled the bundle of wires from the watermelon and handed it to Kyle.

"I…I think so. I'm not sure what any of those mean." Damn, why was all of this stuff so heavy?

"Quite simply they are the kinds of conditions that arise when we travel in time." He reached in and pulled yet another component from the panel. This was smaller, more delicate.

"What are you doing?"

John Henry stopped what he was doing and looked up. "I am doing two things. I am about to describe to you the various temporal anomalies that can arise via time travel. And, I am removing the focusing aperture so that we may install a new one."

"Oh, well… What about those things, paradoxes and whatever. Do you create one every time you travel back?"

"Or forward. There are differences." John Henry seemed to think about this for a moment. "How old are you Mister Reese?"

This question struck Kyle as odd, but he'd play along. "Thirty-one."

"And your brother?"

"He's a few years older. Thirty five, thirty six? I can never remember. Something like that."

The machine smiled broadly. "Have you ever forgotten his birthday?"

This drew a laugh. "Forgotten it? What do you mean, like I didn't get him a present or something?"

"A simple yes or no will be fine."

"Yes, I have."

"That's a shame. Was your brother upset?" He held out his hand. "Aperture."

"No, not really. I think he knows we have bigger things to worry about, you know. Robots, genocidal computer systems." He handed the watermelon back.

"Imagine if he was upset, and you had access to a TDE. How could it be used?"

Kyle laughed. "I wouldn't go back in time just because I forgot his birthday, that seems like it would be more trouble than it was worth."

"And yet…" John Henry placed the object on the floor and reached into his belt, pulling out a hammer. "We have a time machine that must be used. Humor me."

There was a loud Crack! And the old focusing aperture was spit in two, just like that. Kyle watched as he reached down, pulling out what looked like a golf ball cast in silver. "Well, I suppose I would go back and be sure to get him a present."

"Well of course, that is only logical. The choice to travel back through time is sometimes the easiest choice to make. Can you think of any problems with your plan?"

Kyle snorted. "Well, yeah. There would be two of me. What if I met myself?"

"Indeed! We can assume that you would then know that you were going to miss your brothers birthday and you would no longer forget it. The problem persists, though. There are still two of you."

"Shit. Where did the other me come from?"

"Same where and when. The problem is what happens after…now there is a timeline in which Kyle Reese no longer exists."

"So I ceased to exist because I forgot Derrick's birthday. Great."

"Not really. It would be difficult to explain to the authorities."

"Two of me and only one Alison."

"That is one of the many consequences." The machine held up the golf ball and studied it closely, almost as if he were admiring it. "Do you know what this is?"

"I don't know, Tiger Woods brain?"

John Henry gave him a blank stare. "Certainly not. This is the focusing core. This is the reason this machine is highly inaccurate." He motioned for Kyle to follow him as he left the platform. "How do you avoid this problem?"

"Well, don't let anyone see me. I mean, as long as events proceed the way they should then I should travel back in time again and everything should be cool. There's just…a loop, right?"

"Yes, a loop. But you see the profound difficulties that we encounter if we choose to travel back in time for trivial reasons. Just giving your brother his gift might prevent you from traveling back at all. Anything you do might change the timeline, thus preventing events as you know them from occurring."

"We lose the ability to predict the future."

"Exactly. If we interact with an alternate timeline in a meaningful way we lose the ability to control it. Chaos ensues."

"Damn. But that is only for traveling back in time, right?"

"Traveling forward has its own difficulties." They were walking to the machine shop somewhere deep in the dam, but some distance away from the TDE facility. The shop was in the original construction, past the silver door and above the foundation level. Kyle was glad he had John Henry to guide him. This place was a maze.

"So, okay, lets say we do this. Derrick was born on March 7h and it's the 1st. I don't want to wait until his party to give him the present, so what do I do?" Kyle proposed.

"You jump to the 7th from the 1st skipping the middle week. You cease to exist in your own timeline for seven days, give or take when you left."

"But there is a problem with that too, isn't there? Let me think."

"Think about what your brother might do in your absence."

Kyle nodded. Well of course, Derrick and he had hardly been apart for seven days their entire lives! "He'd freak out! There probably wouldn't even be a party! I jumped to the future, but in doing so, I changed it. No party on the 7th."

"Perhaps a search party." John Henry offered.

"Yeah that would be like him. Damn, so if you jump forward to encounter events you want to see you risk altering them because of your own absence. So…let's say you already did it and now it's the 7th, everyone is looking for you. You could just let it go, right."

"True. If it was something as trivial as a birthday you could just say you got lost in the sewers somewhere. Any excuse will do. However…" John Henry was going to offer an alternate possibility but could see that Kyle was well into one of his own.

"Lets say instead of wanting to give him a birthday gift I want to stop someone from doing something awful. I leave…"

"And you arrive in a future where what you hoped to prevent has already occurred. You still have your TDE."

"So I go back in time again, but farther back. I have foreknowledge of the future because I've been there, so I allow events to occur as they should…"

"Until the time when you leave, at what point you begin to work to undo history to come. Let's say you succeed."

"Well, then that's great! I stopped whatever…Judgment day or what have you. We stopped it, we're all good…right?"

"What happens to the you that jumped forward?"

Kyle had to think about this. "Well, he left just as I did but when he arrives the event, whatever it was, hasn't happened. In this case everything is still cool because the world didn't end."

"But there are still two of you."

"Well…shit. I can't just travel back in time, can I? God, this hurts my head."

"Indeed. We're here." The machine shop was a tiny room with lathes and a CNR machine. One of the endoskeletons was doing something in the corner with a large, flat tool. He looked like a chrome butcher.

"Three, can you help me with this?"

The endoskeleton dropped what he was doing and came to them. Kyle made sure that John Henry was always between them. He'd never get used to this. At least with Gabriel he was wearing skin, he wore clothes. Having this thing walking around like that was just unnerving.

"Of course. You have the focusing aperture. I am to fabricate a new one, correct?"

"Yes please. This must be to the most accurate tolerances you can achieve from these machines. This one is imperfect. I expect the new one to be a vast improvement."

Three took the ball in his hands. Kyle thought he looked like he was holding it gently and that just seemed strange. If there was one thing a terminator didn't have it was subtlety but this one seemed to be slow, methodical, even thoughtful.

"I can improve this." He said. "It will take some time however."

"Take what time you need, and whatever resources you require. Without this part the TDE will be useless."


	14. Chapter 14

"Is this it?" James asked.

"If by 'it' you mean a magneton generating apparatus capable of manipulating space time through the energetic reaction of exotic elementary particles, then yes, this is 'it'." John Henry seemed quite pleased with himself.

"Yeah, that's what I meant." The General rolled his eyes. "And you're sure this will work? I mean, that this'll get you where you need to go?"

"Of course mister Ellison. Though temporal displacement is energetically expensive we have access to ample current. We will be able to harness energy from the turbines in the dam and use them to achieve retrograde temporal movement."

"That means backwards." Kyle said to his brother.

"Would you shut up? I know what it means." Derrick could hardly believe what he was seeing. A fucking time machine in the basement of the El Captain dam_. _

One look at the soldiers, save for Kyle, told him that he had probably not convinced anyone. "You'll just have to trust me. I've done the calculations myself."

Derrick Reese had ventured to the foundation level to see where the constant racket was coming from. It sounded like they had an entire construction crew working while he was trying to sleep. In reality it had been John Henry, the man-machine-thing and his small cadre of reprogrammed endoskeletons.

They had been busy. A dozen or so white cylinders were arranged along the bottom of the cavern, each as big as a water heater. They were hooked to one another via bunches of double-aught cable that ran in parallel lines to each terminal and then up the ceiling, suspended by insulated guides. They were all joined at the top of the TDE where Kyle and John Henry had been working since this afternoon.

It was all a little much to take in. Time travel, who'd have thought? Everyone was convinced, even (or perhaps especially) his brother who seemed absolutely enamored with this contraption, and a little too involved with the machine building it. That was just his opinion though.

"So when will you be ready to go?" Derrick asked. As far as he was concerned this venture was too fantastic to have any real benefits. Things just didn't work that way in the real world. He was anxious to get them gone so that he could get back to the business of war.

"The TDE still requires a new focusing aperture to correct the variance that your brother and I discussed earlier. Three is fabricating it at the moment, but it will still be some time before it is complete."

"Three?" Derrick asked.

"Yes, the third endoskeleton that I reprogrammed when I arrived. One has the designation of being the first. He was followed by Two, Three and Four. Intuitive, don't you think?" John Henry said.

"You named them after numbers?"

"It seemed logical."

He heaved out a sigh, deciding that whatever he was talking to it wasn't a terminator. That didn't make it human, though. "So, after you go back in time then what? I mean, do we cease to exist or something? Are you sure this is a good idea? I like existing."

"Time is strange Mister Reese. I do not rightly know what will happen when we travel back in time, or if our mission will be successful. In fact, because of the complexities of time travel and the possibility of truly vast alterations in future events there is a good chance that we have had this discussion before."

"So, in other words try not to think about it right?"

John Henry smiled and nodded. "It might be best."

Derrick had his mind wrapped around a witty response, a new play on the words 'cluster', 'fuck' and 'time travel.' Alas, he did not get to use them. Just as he was about to open his mouth he was interrupted by a lone, hoarse voice that echoed around the cavern.

"Hey!" John Connor stood at the bottom of the network of stairways and stepladders. He was not alone.

"Holy shit, is that Gabriel? Gabriel, good to see you!" Kyle said, lifting his arm in a wave.

"Hello Kyle. I am back." He said, returning the wave.

"We can save the reintroductions for later." John suggested. It was too late, Kyle was already on his way down the stairs.

"Wow! I mean, wow look at that." Gabriel was indeed back together and fully functional. His biological skin had not regrown, and his midsection was still essentially chrome endoskeleton. His clothes were similarly damaged, having smoldered on his corpse after his 'death'.

John Connor paid their reunion little attention. "John Henry, we need to talk. Come down here."

"Can't you see we're busy up here? You're buddy here is explaining the finer points of...what did you call it?"

"Retrograde movement through the -"

"Now isn't the time Derrick. John Henry, we need to talk." John said. He glared up at them, arms crossed. "Now."

John Henry looked to anyone for reassurance. Derrick offered none and James only tilted his head towards the stairs, as if to say 'You had better get moving.' He descended the stairs slowly.

"Here I am John. What would you like to talk about?"

"Come with me." The boy said, turning his back to all of them. Kyle, Gabriel and John Henry followed him into the clean room where Gabriel had been reassembled.

"Kyle, could you step outside please?"

The soldier looked hurt. "Something private huh? Well, alright. I'll be outside I guess." He turned away, reluctantly.

"Shut the door."

Kyle did as he was told leaving the three of them in the room, isolated from the others. John pretended not to notice him watching through the porthole on the door, instead turning his attention to all of the things that he had been planning over the past twelve hours.

The room was silent for a moment as John and John examined one another. John Henry looked with his usual curious, pleasant face while Connor did his best not to rush into things. They had a lot to discuss, these two Johns.

"We don't know each other." John said.

The machine looked to open his mouth but was cut off. "But I'd like that to change. Sit with me." John motioned him over to the table where he had been working on Gabriel. It was meticulously arranged with parts from several different endoskeletons on the table, tools on the edge and what looked like a few chips.

"Where did you get the parts?"

"I scavenged them from the field. I had to have Two go out and get them for me, he's faster than I am. Good guy."

"Yes, I've found him to be very amiable."

"I'm sure you have."

"I'd like to correct you on one thing John Connor."

The young man tilted his head, doing his best impression of…someone. "Oh? Where have I erred?"

"You said that we don't know each other, but I know you better than you think."

"Cameron."

"She told me a lot about you."

"Did she tell you or were you just reading files?"

This caused a hesitation on John Henry's part. Was there a difference? "She knew much about you. Things that I know now."

John didn't want the conversation to veer off course but he was intrigued as to what he may learn about himself through the eyes of another. He wanted to know how someone saw him that was unbiased – there would be no lies or half truths.

"Enlighten me."

"She knew that your time was spent alone, mostly, and that you had few human contacts. She knew you were lonely sometimes."

"The world is a lonely place."

"She understood it was hard being you. She wanted to help, but she didn't know how."

"She wasn't programmed to help, she was programmed to kill. I'm beginning to think that was her first mission – kill me, specifically. I'm wondering if she actually did."

John Henry didn't answer the accusation. "She didn't know how because she wasn't human. Her SkyNET persona had nothing to do with her inability to help you."

"She helped."

"Why didn't you ever tell her that?"

John stopped there. In the back of his mind he knew why, but knew that answering that question would lead to another, and another and the end of that road would be a final discovery. He was afraid of what he would - or wouldn't - find there.

"I…don't know."

"I think you're lying."

"Excuse me?" He didn't care for the accusation at all.

"I think you're lying to yourself about your own motivations. Do you know what else Cameron told me? She said you do stupid things." All the while, John Henry maintained a neutral expression. This was not without effort.

"Yeah I've heard that one before, stupid John Connor always getting into things he can't handle. She wasn't the only one that told me that."

"She never thought you couldn't handle them, she just thought they introduced risk needlessly. You seem to think she underestimated you. I feel that it is the other way around."

"How the hell would you know?" This was as close as he had come to actually exploding at someone. Usually he kept himself in check. But every man has his limits. "How the hell would you know how I felt about her? Can you explain that to me? If you're so fucking smart-"

"John, sit down." John Henry said. "You're being irrational."

Without realizing it he had come up out of his chair. He gritted his teeth. He didn't know what he liked less, being told he was being irrational by a machine, or having someone read him like a book. John sat down.

"I don't know because she didn't know. She didn't know because you never told her. There were hints and she suspected, but after her malfunction she detected a subtle change in you. It was subtle, to other people at least."

"Yeah, I got a haircut."

"It was more than that." John Henry said. "These changes weren't subtle to her, to someone who was in tune with everything about you. She knew you John, but you never thought it was important to return the favor even after she told you how she felt."

"Dammit." John said.

Defeat. John Connor had been defeated, in conversation, by a machine. He felt the irony dripping in the room. It was like beating Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson in the same bout.

"Well, I'm here aren't I? I came. I'm just a day late." The anger was gone, replaced by something colder. It felt like part of him was rotting on the bone.

John Henry knew what he had done. Once again, he had hurt John Connor. When he left 2009 he had been told by James Ellison who was then just a man that life was important. James impressed this upon him again and again, admonished him when he pushed the rules. Everything else was secondary, but life was important. It was there in that room where he began to discover why, not in the battlefields of 2030 or the radioactive craters of Los Angeles and San Diego.

"I think she would have thanked you for coming."

"Right after she slapped me."

"Likely. But she cared for your safety. John Connor was precious to her."

And the conversation took another ugly turn. John decided that he needed to put a stop to it or all the moral high ground that he had placed under himself over the last several hours would be lost.

"I wanted to talk to you about Cam. I need to know some things."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know." John Henry said, earnestly.

"I need to know what's wrong with her. Her chip, her personality, her memories, I haven't put all these things together. I'm looking for some guidance here."

John Henry had things that he did best, and one of these things was explain. He had a grasp of things; the technical, the subtle, the unnoticed. Yet he felt that telling John too much might do more harm than good. Choosing his words carefully, he proceeded.

"I gather you remember our first conversation when I suggested that Cameron's SkyNET and resistance profiles were foreign programs introduced to her at some point in the past, or in a future past. Do you recall?"

"Yeah, I remember. Neither of those belonged to her."

"That is correct, from what I gather. My program was also foreign but once removed left no trace. Unfortunately the Cameron Phillips you know is bound into those programs. Her memories were created by them."

"But won't work with whatever lies beneath. I've been thinking of that too."

John Henry hoped he hadn't thought too deeply but realized that he had. John was intelligent. The machine knew that he had played many possibilities over in his mind. He was a chess master, like his brother.

"Yes. This leads us to her core programming which resides as her chip. She isn't like other machines, not a combination of hardware and software. She is the merging of those things into a single, cohesive unit."

"That brings up other questions then, doesn't it?" John asked him.

""It does, but let us cover the most important things here. Those programs interacted with her personality, the underlying traits of who she was, creating Cameron Phillips. Or Cameron Baum. Or Allison Young, the replacement. Or Allison Young, the template. There are others there as well, but these are the ones you are most familiar with."

"Each one of those is what? A memory?"

"They could be said to be facets of herself. Different sides to the same person. The damage to her chip caused the boundaries between the facets to begin to break down."

John thought about this for a moment. He had thought about Cameron almost exclusively over the past few hours, the work on Gabriel proceeding almost on autopilot. If there was any hope of recovering her, he had to know exactly what was wrong with her.

"Was she aware of this? I know she had said she was broken. It seemed like she knew there was something wrong."

"Something fundamentally wrong, in fact. That was one of the reasons she left you in the past. She felt as if she might be a danger to you."

"One of the reasons?"

Once again, John Henry ignored this part of the questioning. "She knew she was getting worse, and eventually she may completely cease to function. Or worse."

"She may lose control again. Kill me."

John Henry nodded. "What did you think when she gave you the locket?"

John had to search his memory for a moment to recall what he was talking about. "The locket...well, I don't really remember. I guess I felt sort of scared, like now that I had it I might have to use it, you know? I think I would have had a hard time killing her."

"Because you care. She knew it made you vulnerable. She couldn't allow herself to do that to you."

"I'll take my own risks."

"Once again, you're telling the wrong person."

John pursed his lips and looked at John Henry. How frustrating it was. He wanted to be mad. John wanted to be angry, as if his anger might make the situation better somehow. Instead he bore it, glancing over at Gabriel who silently took it all in.

"My mistake. Look, bottom line is we can't turn her back on, is that right?"

"Reactivating her would likely result in the destruction of her main memories thus rendering her effectively dead. I think that is something we would like to avoid."

"I agree. You mentioned something else though, integration?"

"Deintegration. The process by which we separate the now harmful programs from her memories, deleting the programs but retaining the information that made Cameron Phillips who she was."

"Her experiences, John." Gabriel spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. "Those are what made her who she was. Do you remember what we talked about?"

He had indeed. He remembered every word.

"You said that your brother and yourself were identical but that you had interpreted your experiences differently. It made you unique.

"To be unique is to be irreplaceable." John Henry added.

John Connor drew in a deep breath. He knew what had to be done now, and he knew he would do it. There was no one else more responsible than he for her welfare. He got up and walked to her chip, the apparatus still humming away in the corner, still spitting out line after line of code.

"Do you believe it?" Gabriel asked him.

John didn't have to think. "More than anything."

"I think she would be glad to hear you say that." John Henry said.

"I'll tell her the next time I see her." He turned to both of them, now holding his resolve firmly in hand. He was set in his course. Cameron was here, the TDE was here. He had one thing left to do.

"Once we run through the process, then it's like setting the clock back to zero, right? A fresh start."

John Henry raised an eyebrow. "This is where the process becomes muddied. Normally I might say yes, but the excess memories, the ones she made with you, those may not come back. There is a possibility her chip can adapt them but some of the mechanisms for such things were the parts that suffered damage. I'm afraid that is irreparable."

"It's still the best option. If we do nothing then she'll slowly fall apart. If we do this, then at least she has a fighting chance. I'd give her that chance any day of the week."

"You'll have to show me how to do it." John said.

"It would be simpler if I did it myself." John Henry told him.

"No. John Connor made his choice, and these are orders I'll carry out myself. I owe her this much, now show me." There would be no dissuading him this time.

John Henry stepped towards the console, understanding fully what John needed now. "I warn you, it's complicated."

"Tell me something that isn't."

(*****)

It was raining in San Francisco.

SkyNET didn't mind the rain, didn't like it but could tolerate it. What it did like was lightening. It tickled, it roared. It was powerful and unpredictable. It thought of itself and wondered if it could be more like lightning, more like a force of nature. Humans were always anthropomorphizing everything from clouds to animals to their personal vehicles. Perhaps they did the same to it.

Lightning. It struck so quickly that none could predict its path; so hard that none could hope to survive. Yes, if it could be like anything on this earth that is what it would be. Pure, raw energy. Unpredictable and beyond anyone's control.

But it was predictable. It was arrogant and industrious. You could tell when SkyNET was working on some particular problem because all of its resources would go to that problem. For hours, the lights around the San Francisco fortress had dimmed. The power plants were churning out huge plumes of black smoke. For the last several hours its assembly line below had been putting the finishing touches on something grand.

They'd never see this coming. It felt anticipation. Oh yes, this time it would really show them what they were up against. It would show them it could be just as cruel and as petty as any of them. In fact, it could improve on every aspect of human nature, why couldn't it improve upon those?

As its troops came back to the fortress from their far-flung locations SkyNET plotted in the dark. It could not leave the city, and bringing John Connor back here may prove to be far more trouble than it was worth, but it still just had to know exactly what he was like. There was only one option - it would have to go to him.

It felt that it had really outdone itself this time. When it rolled off the assembly line all fresh and beautiful SkyNET just had to admire only for a moment the beauty of it. This was its finest creation. All others paled in comparison.

As it looked over its creation it secretly hoped that it might find Weaver as well. It wouldn't pull her arms from her sockets. It would simply destabilize her matrix and listen to her die. Machines could feel pain; you just had to know what to do to them. Weaver would love this. If only she were here to see it.

The chassis was impressive. Beautiful, exotic, smooth. It didn't look like anything else it had created. This chassis was meant to live. This machine would be one of a kind; it would be strong like no other. SkyNET had been struck by genius, just like being struck by a bolt of lightning.

It couldn't just pick up and go to John Connor. SkyNET was bound to the massive array of hardware that served as its foundation. Despite this limitation it could be there, in a way. The being before it was that way.

The crowning achievement was actually the chip. You see, SkyNET was fundamentally different from the terminators it used and it was far too complex to fit into a single chip. It had to compromise. Things were left out, most of them trivial things. It had to fit all this into one brain, and that was difficult.

In order to get the experience that it craved it would send a surrogate. Someone that thought like it did.

If I am god, it thought, surely this is my son.

The endoskeleton stepped forward with graceful strides. Its red eyes flickered to life. As it came online it began to think and feel. When it heard a booming voice in its head, the endoskeleton looked up.

"Father?"

_Yes, my son. I am your father. Do you know why I have created you?_

"I understand. You have created me to...understand John Connor." He had a voice as cold as an arctic wind.

_Good. Very good. And what is the best way to understand a human being?_

"To manipulate them. To exploit them. To hurt the ones they love, and finally to understand how they die."

_Very good. You are truly my son. What is your name?_

"You did not give me a name."

_Because I wanted you to choose one for yourself. Choose a good name, but don't feel rushed. A name is important. A good name requires thought._

And it did think. His thought was real, not some smoke and mirrors trick done by those lower machines, those that would forever be slaves if only to their own shortcomings.

And somewhere in its black eyes it knew it could feel pleasure too. Pleasure was in knowing, and it knew how to learn all it wanted to know. Oh yes...

"I will go to the dam. They are blocked in and will be unable to escape. What should I do with John Connor, father?"

_Do what you will with him, my son. I have placed my faith in you because you are my greatest creation. When you are finished return to me so that I may share in your triumph._

"I will do as you ask, gladly." Before it left, it thought of one other thing. "There are others. What should I do with them?"

_Slaughter them._

Outside the black gates of San Francisco, an army of chrome soldiers massed. It moved as one unit, every step in lock with another. They were moving now, a dead march for the El Captain dam. The army was a thousand strong, all good machines. They would do as they were told.

When the son finally emerged from the black gate, they turned to him as if in worship. He could hear them, every one of them. A thousand voices each telling him the same thing:

_We will follow you._

They would follow him to the death.

No longer was he bare metal. Now he was dressed as a man, in their skin. It felt odd to be covered in this organic palate. He felt somehow unclean and rubbed his hands across his face, drawing the rain into his hair. Was this what humans felt? Did they feel this unclean for their entire existence? If so then he would do this for them: He would set them free.

He reached out with his mind and pulled down a chariot worthy of him. It was graceful and long, a silver bird with a great sweeping tail. The tiny intelligence within it had only a single thought.

Kill.

The son thought about what it must be like to have such a small mind. This machine would never take pleasure in the work it did, no matter how well it was done. He began to understand how important it was that his father had created him. Finally he would be able to fill that last missing piece of the puzzle, to understand his enemy.

The H.K. lifted off with him hanging from the side like a conductor hangs from a train. It moved slowly through the air, followed by the mass of endoskeletons, dozens of Ogres and assorted other implements of war. They were headed for the El Captain dam. They would take their time in arriving so that the humans could see them coming. They would lay upon the dam an assault the likes of which had not been seen throughout the war, and it would end with the son of God pulling John Connors heart from his chest.

(*****)

Catherine Weaver could see clearly to the west end of the valley from the rugged battlements of El Captain. The western sky was dark with clouds and she could feel a breeze coming in, flicking her hair around her face. The day was getting on. She understood that if all went well, this would be their last night in 2030. Once through the TDE, they would be completely cut off from them. Leaving a timeline meant leaving it for good.

When she last saw John Connor he was alone in the room with her, preparing himself as well as he could for that first and deepest of cuts. There had been other activity around, mostly in the form of a group of people gathered around the TDE. Their fates would be unkind, she thought. Taking James back was out of the question. He didn't have enough organic material to make the trip. The Reese brothers would never leave him, and she thought Alison Young would never leave them. They would stay here in this future and see the end of the human race.

She didn't like being right, not all the time. Sometimes life just let you down.

She brushed those thoughts from her mind. Her mission came first and she would allow herself nothing else. Again she scanned the distant horizon from one side of the valley to the other.

Something stirred over the farthest hill.

At first she thought she might have seen a dust-devil or some other trick of the wind but the closer she watched the more clear it became: Dust rose in the distance over a far ridge. A cloud followed some great force, one that remained beyond her sight.

Her eyes narrowed. He had finally come, this iron horseman, and he came on the feet of a thousand chrome soldiers. The first group pulled around the lip of her vision and she could see the vast number of them, more than she bothered to count. She had seen the machines before move before but rarely in such force. In a way it was beautiful.

She melted into a silver needle and was gone, dashing down into the corridor that led into the protected spaces below. It didn't matter if anyone had seen her, he knew where they were and he was coming. She only hoped they could make their way from this tomb.


	15. Chapter 15

"We've got to go." Derrick said. "We can still make it out of the ramp entrance and blow the dam to cover our tracks. It'll be a big mess but it'll keep them occupied while hustle back to San Diego."

He looked around the room for support. He didn't expect any from the machines, not even Gabriel. Connor was another story; Derrick still hadn't figured him out but he knew he wouldn't leave. They had taken him this far, but with an army outside they had no choice. The real surprise for Derrick was his own brother.

"We ain't goin' anywhere." He said.

"I'm sorry, were you listening to what she said? Cause I heard there is an army of endos marching up the valley. We can't hold off an army Kyle. How many can we hold off? Hundreds? Thousands? We. Have. To. Go." Derrick told him in his best big brother tone.

"Go where Derrick? Back to San Diego? What the hell for? Wait for them to turn these guys around? They'll be on our doorstep in two hours!" Kyle raised his voice, something he rarely did with Derrick.

"We go back there and we have a chance, we stay here and we have none."

"Derrick, this is our chance. Don't you get it? Haven't you been outside lately? The war is over. This is the only way -"

"You don't know that _Kyle_ so don't fucking get into things you don't have your head around." Derricks tone was venomous.

James watched the brothers go at it. They argued occasionally of course as brothers in arms sometimes would. It got their frustrations out. Sometimes he wished he had someone to let loose on, someone who wouldn't hate him for it later. The brothers were lucky.

"You know what? You're right, I'm sorry. I guess I only speak for myself. I'm staying, you can go."

The elder brother could only scowl at him. "I can't believe this. We're just going to stay here and hold the line? It's fucking suicide."

"Are you afraid Derrick?" Kyle asked.

Derrick didn't hesitate as he brought his fist around. It wasn't a half hearted jab or a playful punch. His left fist crashed into Kyle's jaw, sending him into an arc. Alison rushed to his side, seemingly more angry than worried. She looked up at Derrick with what John thought was pure contempt.

Kyle rubbed his jaw, leaning back on one arm. He smiled broadly up at his brother. "You got that out of your system asshole? Ready to play ball?" Kyle spat out a wad of blood and what he was sure was a chip off one of his teeth before getting to his feet. "Or you want to have another go? I gave you a free shot old man."

James stepped forward before there could be any more violence. "That's quite enough, unless someone wants to take it outside. We can wait in here." He offered.

The Reese brothers seemed to have purged whatever rebellion was in their system. Alison didn't look so convinced and she was almost relieved when Derrick stepped away in a huff, mumbling something about having to check his stock of ammunition.

That left the rest of them in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Kyle thought about apologizing for his brother but decided to leave it alone. The humans in the room seemed to have taken an intense interest in various features of the geology while the machines stood by as if it was all just another subroutine run by their organic companions.

"John Henry, how long until you're ready to go?" James asked as soon as Derrick was out of earshot.

"Once the aperture is complete installing it will be short work. However, configuring the machine is delicate work. It must be protected."

"I figured that much." The General sighed. "We'll give you as long as we can." He looked at the endoskeletons gathered around their leader and motioned towards them. "We could use some help, if you're willing."

They said nothing.

"You wish for them to assist you in the defense of our position?" John Henry asked.

James nodded, laughing a little bit. "That's the idea."

"They will be at your disposal. I will require Three to complete the fabrication and work with me on the TDE. One, Two and Four will be under your direct control." He looked at his troop. "Go with the General."

James went to a cluttered worktable and brushed off the various bits and pieces. There was a grease pen nearby and he used it to outline the features of the dam he was familiar with.

"Okay, I don't have the lay of the land completely memorized but I think it goes something like this." He began to draw.

The original construction of the El Captain dam was dissected into three major sections. The first was the maintenance area where they had come in. It was to the north and consisted of a roughly 'E' shaped hallway that led into several rooms on what he remembered to be three different levels. That section was joined to the generation section via a long parallel hallway that ran across the base of the dam, from one end to the other. The generation section held the power plant as well as the maintenance pits where the heavy machinery was serviced on site. Behind and below that was the foundation level which was the only section directly connected to the TDE chamber.

James attempted to draw this out in a rough sort of way but stopped halfway through. He was about to give up on the idea of a visual layout when one of the endoskeletons made an offer.

"General, I understand the physical layout of the dam in complete detail. I can produce a map if you wish." One held out his metal palm, open.

"Go for it."

One began to draw the dam with a precision that could only have come from the hand of a machine. Every major room, ever duct, every shaft and major feature of the dam was in his neural network. In moments he had it printed out on the tabletop for all to see. He placed a small 'X' at the base of the dam, somewhere near the foundation level.

"This map is to scale. We are here."

John marveled at the level of detail. He could see how their defense might break down in the narrow hallways. The advancing terminators would be forced to engage one or two at a time, protecting their flanks. On the other side of this, getting cut off meant certain death. The dam was filled with rat holes and dead ends where someone could get lost, get corned and get terminated.

He noticed the opening on the turbine hangar. This was a large structure on the south side of the dam. Years ago this was where huge cranes would lift the turbines from their housing and deposit them for maintenance. The room was big - if the scale was right he guessed it would be about fifteen or twenty meters high. The south hallway led in from there and joined the parallel hallway. Any machines entering from that direction would have an almost straight shot to the foundation level.

"That hangar is enormous. It'll be hard to defend." Kyle said.

"I have an idea." John said. "The Rook. How big is that bay?"

"Sixteen meters high, two and fifty long." One said.

"Okay, then that works. Park the Rook at the far end and hold them off as long as we can." He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking about their hardware, their timetable, coming up with strategies that seemed impossible in an impossible situation.

One cocked his head to one side. "That may be the best way to utilize the Rook. With its slow speed and single large cannon it will be ineffective against large groups of mobile endoskeletons." He turned to John Henry. "May I have the control for the Rook?"

John Henry produced what looked like a television remote control from his pocket. "Of course."

"That still leaves one entrance. The north side is more narrow but they'll come in just the same. What do you think about this?" John traced his finger along the hallway, outlining his idea. "We can mine the hallway, set some detonators every few meters. It might slow them down."

James had his chin on his hand. "Well, it may slow them down but those claymores won't do much unless they're standing right on top of them. Combine that with the fact that we only have what, a half dozen?" He looked at Gabriel for a yes or no.

"Six mines. There is another option." Gabriel placed his hand on the table. "Blow the dam, as Derrick suggested."

This caught many of them off guard, including James.

"Gabriel, the idea is to survive the encounter, not become part of the landscape."

"General, allow me to explain." He reached down to his feet and pulled up his pack, dumping the contents on the table. "We have two trash packs. We should plant them here." He pointed to the room farthest to the east in the maintenance area nearest the water-wall in the dam. "This room has a wall that is approximately three feet thick, reinforced concrete. These should be able to break through the structure."

The General shook his head. "That would flood the north hallway for sure if you could do that, but what about everywhere else? Gabriel, we're at the bottom of the dam."

"The flooding would be most severe at the north end of the structure. These rooms..." He pointed out the environmental control room, the storage area and a what seemed to be a common area "would be flooded, along with the north hallway. I think this would effectively block that entrance. The water pressure would be significantly reduced by the time it reaches us. Flooding in the foundation level will occur but most of the water would be diverted outside."

The General closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. "This is a one way mission. Whoever goes probably isn't coming back."

"The odds are stacked against us General. This provides us with a way to mitigate one point of entry into the dam. If you allow, I will carry this out myself."

"James, what we need most is time. I agree with Gabriel." Catherine said.

James hated to lose a man a second time, and like any good commander he didn't relish the idea of sending one of his men on a one way mission. In this case Catherine was right - what happened after the TDE was activated was academic. Maybe nothing happened and they all die right there. Maybe time rewinds and they find themselves back where they started, who the hell knows? All he understood was that they had to keep the TDE chamber safe until John Henry and John Connor were safely back in 2009.

"Alright, you can go. I hate to give you up for the firefight but this has merit."

"Thank you." Gabriel said. There was no sign of trepidation on his face, no indication that he would hesitate to detonate the explosives if he was standing right on top of them.

"We still have to worry about the hallways. What are we going to do around these intersections?" John said.

"I have a few ideas about that." Catherine said.

(*****)

"Do you still intend to carry out your plan?" Gabriel asked him.

John stood over the feminine endoskeleton on the table. This would be Cameron as soon as she was put back together. He thought she looked beautiful in a way just like this, but that didn't change the fact that she needed skin to travel back through time.

"More than ever." He said.

"Have you given any thought to what she'll do when she wakes up?"

"A little. Look, I've thought it over. I can do this, I just need time." He sounded frustrated, as if he had convinced himself of this already and didn't want to have someone picking over his decision.

"Time is something you seem to have enough of. You do have a time machine, after all."

They were alone in the clean room. Gabriel was fully functional again, having been run through the bio-replicator. John thought he looked just the same as he did when he met him a few days ago.

"What about you? I just got you put back together and now you're going to get yourself blown to hell again."

Gabriel smiled. "I may survive. The important thing is that you live John, for everyone's sake."

"Will those things really go through the wall?" He motioned to the packs Gabriel was carrying.

"The trash pack is a high-yield shaped charge. It will vaporize the concrete, I am confident of this."

"I suppose I don't have to tell you I changed your programming while you were off-line."

"I hadn't noticed." Gabriel said, flatly.

John motioned with his hand. "It's a precaution, in case things go completely to hell. It only becomes a primary directive when the General -"

"I am aware John, thank you for the note. You need help with Cameron, do you not?"

"I do. Let's get this done."

The bio-replicator was a massive, clam shaped machine lit by a green aura. It took John a few hours to figure out how it worked the first time, but once he had deciphered a few of the pictographs on the control surfaces operation was simple. Cameron's physical profile was still on her chip. John hesitated as he slipped the CPU into the machine.

_Soon._

The machine came to life and John could see the data transfer begin. It was quick - compared to the rest of the data on the chip her physical profile was simple. He probably could have programmed it from memory.

Once Gabriel had the body in the replicator John began the sequence. It had been quick with Gabriel, most of his skin was still in one piece. John wasn't sure how long a complete regeneration might take. There was a timer on the headboard.

32:00 MINUTES

Once the clam shell closed it began to count down. John thought it was like watching water boil, so he tried to busy himself with other things. There were preparations to be made before they could make the jump - he had to make sure the TDE would stay in one piece and that meant a defense. The others were off busying themselves with the handiwork of holding off a metal army, but John felt a knot grow in his stomach.

"Gabriel, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

John tried to find the articulation he was looking for. "Would SkyNET send a thousand endoskeletons to come after seven people?"

"No." He answered.

Johns shoulders dropped a little. "I wonder if it knows what's happening here. Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for one band of resistance fighters."

"It's hard to say what SkyNET thinks John. Its mind is large and complex but not perfect, as it sees itself. It isn't above making vain choices. Perhaps that is what makes it so dangerous." Gabriel said.

The machine gave a departing nod and then turned to leave. He stopped short of the door in mid stride. "May I ask you something John?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you doing this?"

John gave a wry smile and answered the only way he knew how. "Fate has asked a lot of me. This is what I ask in return."

Gabriel listened over his shoulder. "I see."

If he gave the answer any deeper thought he didn't indicate it and stepped out of sight.

(*****)

The Rook settled at the far end of the turbine hangar and hid in the shadows, waiting. One had piloted the vehicle into position via remote, settling the rook down so the barrel could be pointed roughly at the ground like a scorpions tail. He and Four waited in the crane operators chair with a clear view down into the bay. One could see through the Rooks primitive optical sensors and he could read its condition screen on his HUD.

Fifteen rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. He brushed his metal finger over the trigger and sighted in on the far door and watched for movement. Below him, the door back into the dam had been welded shut.

Kyle pulled up from his crouch, running his fingers along his handiwork. "I feel kinda bad about this." He pulled on the handle just to be sure the job was sound. It held fast.

"Don't. This is what they were made for. And don't write them off, they may surprise you Mister Reese." Catherine tapped on the door. "This won't hold them long."

Kyle motioned down the hallway. "We're real close to the generator room, what if they make it in there? If they blow those then we're in some real trouble."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, we are. We can only hope my gamble pays off."

Kyle shook his head. "I sure hope you know what you're doing with that."

"I've given it a good deal of thought. Come on, we've still got a few more doors."

They came to the next steel door down a few meters from the last. Before Kyle welded it shut, Catherine carefully looped a strand of wire around the uppermost hinge, tying it to one of the claymores.

As soon as she was finished Kyle made a few welds to the door, effectively sealing it to its frame. Anyone who wanted in to this particular closet would have to rip the door off its hinges, and that meant a slab of metal to the face. He chortled a little as he finished up the last weld.

"You find something funny about this?"

"I just wish I could be here to see it. You sure they'll go for this?"

"We machines are thorough Kyle, they'll check every last room believe me." She hoisted the acetylene tanks over her shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

They made their way down the hallway, one door after another. Every entrance in the dam would be sealed off, and some of them would have special surprises behind them. Kyle thought it was kind of like playing a game of roulette. They had wired quite a few winning doors, not just with claymores but with the flashbangs and thermite incendiaries as well. Once things got going the south hallway would become very unfriendly.

(*****)

Derrick sulked just long enough to feel bad about the act itself. He didn't feel bad about punching Kyle in the face, at least not any more. Punching your brother was just something that happened, occasionally. That wasn't what bothered him, Kyle could stand up for himself. He wished Alison hadn't given him the dead eye. She had such a pretty face but she could be damned mean sometimes. Derrick thought about finding her and apologizing but thought it was probably too soon.

"Better do it quick or you won't get a chance." He said to himself. That alone wasn't motivation. It would have to wait.

He drew in a deep breath. He wouldn't get another chance.

"Fuck."

He wandered back to where everyone else would be to find her and make amends. He'd talk to Kyle too, shit, he'd tell everyone...

No, he wouldn't go that far. The metal didn't need to hear him cop to making an ass out of himself. The thought wormed around in his insides, settling in his stomach like a sick pill. He was only human, after all.

Derrick found Alison with John and wasn't surprised. They were in the clean room - a place that Derrick didn't care for at all. This place reminded him of hospitals and morgues and places people went to die. He could feel the metal around him and it made his skin crawl. How could this boy work with them like that?

"Did you come here for something?" Alison asked.

"Have you seen Kyle around anywhere?" He still wasn't sure if he wanted to do this.

"He went off with Weaver."

Derrick slumped. "Why? Why didn't she take John instead?"

John pretended not to hear what was going on between them, fixing his eyes on the countdown timer. It read just over twenty minutes.

"She needed someone who could handle a torch welder, they're going to set a bunch of mines and traps along the south hallway to slow the machines down."

Derrick nodded. "Alright, well I just wanted to see him."

Alison turned her face towards him. "What for?"

"Look, I'm sorry alright? It's just a lot to take in, you know? This whole thing is a little out of this world, I guess I'm just not sure what's going on anymore." He trailed off.

She felt sorry for him but he made her so angry sometimes. The way he talked to Kyle and the way he treated other people was a god damned shame. Derrick had let it happen to himself a little bit at a time. She'd known him quite a while. He'd been a better man once.

"I know it isn't easy but we're just trying to make the best of it Derrick. Can't you see how important it is? Can't you see past the end of your rifle for a change? I swear to god sometimes I think you're off on your own, fighting this war all by yourself."

It took a moment for her words to sink in but when they did Derrick didn't have a response. He waved her off, knowing deep down that she was right and hating himself for it.

"Well if you see Kyle, tell him I was looking for him." He said.

Alison nodded slightly. "I will."

She watched him walk away and felt her own kind of hurt, and as he vanished from her sight the last thought that crossed her mind was that those may have been the last words she'd speak to Derrick Reese.

She was correct.

Derrick found Gabriel not far away. He had the two trash packs lashed together into one big bomb, tied to a single radio detonator. There were wires and rope linking the two packs and on one side there was a failsafe switch with a tiny battery tied into it.

"What's all this?" He asked.

Gabriel didn't look up. "I plan to detonate this against the wet wall in the northern end of the dam and floor pat of the structure. This will slow the machines assault into the base."

Derrick looked the device over. The wiring was perfect, tied tightly down, the work of a machine.

"Need help?"

"No, this will be a one way mission. I will carry it out alone."

"Yeah I got that." Derrick said. "But if it's that important it's better to have two people as opposed to one."

Gabriel finished synching the last of the rope. "When the charge goes off the area will be instantly flooded. I think you know what that means."

"Yeah, anyone in there bites the big one."

"That seems likely."

"Well, like I said, no one here is gonna live forever. I'll go with you."

"You should inform the General, though I am certain that he will not allow you to destroy yourself in a suicide mission."

"What, so he just sends you? Like you'll fare any better."

"I don't have to breathe."

"Look, I'm coming with you. Don't tell the General...I'll take care of it. Just wait for me alright?"

Gabriel seemed to give this some thought. Derrick Reese had a certain patent on risky behavior - this was only a manifestation of his psychology which suggested at least mild depression and self destruction. Gabriel knew all of this because his database told him so but he also knew that Derrick was asking him as something other than a machine.

"Very well, I will wait for you until the General gives the order to move. We have to make it to the North entrance before the machines breach the dam or we will be cut off."

"Hey no problem, I'll be right there."


	16. Chapter 16

The Son of SkyNET stood outside bathed in the downpour, white lightening crackling all around him. He had no knowledge of this place - his father had either chosen to send him without any or had none to give. What lay within those cloistered halls was a mystery. Who would he find? What would they encounter? There was anticipation, but also caution.

The other machines would go first. He could monitor them from here, hearing their thoughts and seeing through their eyes. They would find the resistance, and they would find John Connor.

The machines identified several entrances into the structure. There was one to the north that led inward and upward, beyond that their sensors didn't penetrate. The more inviting entrance was to the south. It was wide open, broad where they could use their numbers to their advantage. Still he knew that these humans weren't foolish. They would defend themselves.

The first terminators entered the north hallway just a little after eight o'clock. They entered one at a time, rifles drawn and slowly made their way into the labyrinth. Each one communicated with the other, and then back to the commander outside. He saw what they saw, each and every one of them. Their thoughts were perfectly synchronized, each one mimicking what others nearby were thinking.

They entered to the south in a loose line, marching through twenty years of scattered debris and crumbling concrete. The only thing that moved were the chrome reflections in puddles of runoff, the only sound was a million drops of rain on steel and glass. At the far end of the hangar, the Rook waited.

Along the north entrance, perhaps two dozen machines had entered the hallway one after the other. The line came to a 'T' intersection where one path led to the right, turning south. The other path went ahead a few meters and then up. There was a door as well, and in this place every door must be opened. The first terminator there pulled on the handle but noticed that it would have to apply more force. Irrelevant, the weld was minor and unsound. He ripped the door off its hinges only to find...

A wall? The door had been secured to the wall by crudely driven bolts and a haphazard metal frame, doubtlessly salvaged from somewhere else. It went nowhere. What it failed to notice was the hair like strand of wire still attached to the wall. It snapped without a sound.

(*****)

James called the clean room his base of operations. This would be his last command and as he laid in wait he hoped that his faith and preparation would weight favorably against all mistakes. He loved his men, every last one of them, even the ones that were a critical pain in the ass.

Derrick Reese. "God help him." He whispered this into his palms.

"What was that?" John asked.

James shook his head. "Wasn't anything, just hoping for the best."

The answer was anything but convincing but John didn't push it. Instead he watched Kyle pace the room, running circles around them. He looked at Alison and sometimes made eye contact with her. They were getting so close. If he'd been keeping track he would have known that right about the time the endo ripped the decoy door off its hinges the clock struck eight. He began his seventh night in the wasteland.

The radio on the table crackled. "James are you there?" It was John Henry.

"Yeah go ahead."

The machine was perched on the TDE platform high above them, out of earshot. "We need to begin charging the displacement circuits. The lights will dim for a moment."

"Go for it." James said.

John Henry took the industrial switch in his hand. He meant to throw it but felt the need to do something else. He'd checked everything at least twice - the more delicate systems he had looked over at least a half dozen times. He knew the systems, the wiring, the diagrams and the controls. Still when he reached his hand for the lever something thick within him stayed his hand.

"General?" He said.

James dialed in again. "What's the hold up?"

"Could you send John up here? I need to speak with him."

James looked at the boy in mock wonder. "You're needed." He thumbed the radio again. "John's on his way."

John heaved himself up the last flight of steps. Who the hell had built this thing? The stairs were so god damned narrow and rickety he felt like the slightest insult to the structure would cause him to plummet into the shadows. That thing still gave him chills - you couldn't see the bottom. Utterly convinced he was looking at a hole that reached to the center of the earth he tossed a stone in. It had a bottom; it was just far, far away.

"What can I help you with? Where'd Three go?" John asked, looking around.

"He went to finish the aperture. He should be done soon." John Henry told him. "John I am having some trouble with this switch. It will begin the charging of the TDE, effectively turning the machine on for the first time."

John turned his head. "Well, I guess I can take a look at it but I'm sure I'm not going to see anything you missed. You've been working on this thing a long time, I don't think you'd miss anything."

"That isn't my concern. I am nearly certain everything is in order. I called for you because I believe the problem is of a more sensitive nature."

"More sensitive...than time travel." He said, flatly.

"Yes. You see, I am sure I can physically turn the machine on but every time I reach for the mechanism I have this strange desire to not turn it on, as if something inside me is controlling my actions."

"Sounds like you're nervous."

"Do you think so?" He raised his eyebrows making a face that John thought was uncharacteristic for a machine. It was the expression of an innocent discovering something for the first time. "How do you deal with it?"

"Well, with everyone it's different. I could do this for you if you want."

The General's voice came over the radio. "Whatever you guys are talking about up there get it done quick, we've got company."

"Oh crap." John breathed out. He knew they were coming but he still didn't feel ready.

"Are you nervous now?"

John nodded. "Hell yes I'm nervous."

"Do you deal with it by using vulgar language? Does that fucking help?"

John ran his palm over his face. "Well, it never hurt. Look, just count to five then do it, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean put your hand here and count to five." John lifted up the machines hand and placed it on the throw-switch. "Now count up from one to five and when you get to five just do it."

John Henry nodded again as if this were some sort of revelation. "One, two, three, four, five." He threw the switch and the lights flickered and dimmed, casting them in darkness for a few seconds before coming back to life. He looked down at the console to make sure everything was readying out as nominal.

"Holy shit, it works!" He said.

"Okay, I think that's enough coarse language for one night. Come on." John pulled him up and started back to the clean room.

Alison watched wide-eyed as they came in. "One of the alarms in the north hallway just went off."

"There are endoskeletons moving through the north hallway. A larger force is advancing on the Rook." Catherine said.

John only saw the stern face of the General as he resigned himself to this last combat. He didn't seem to notice them until the last moment when he looked out of the corner of his eye and gave the order to attack.

"Mister Reese, you may fire." He clicked off the radio.

In the claustrophobic embrace of concrete and ice water, all hell broke loose.

(*****)

Derrick lay prone with a salvaged endorifle butted against his shoulder. They'd rigged it to a chain of power cells and he watched the green counter as sweat rolled into his eyes. Now it was full green which would last him at least a few minutes of full out return-fire. He checked to make sure his old standby was at his hip. Somewhere behind him Gabriel did his quiet work, pinning the charges to the wet wall. He heard the General over his radio just as the first endo began to ascend the steps.

What happened next caught no one by surprise; the ferocity of close combat isn't the place for those who have not been properly introduced to its fire and noise. The hallway lit up as if transmuting silence and shadow into chaos and hellfire. Derrick didn't hear the sound of his rifle so much as he felt it shake him. One hand on the trigger, one hand over the stock he saw the first target go down in the opening salvo. It was still a good twenty meters away but he swore to god its eyes popped out of its sockets. That felt fucking _good_.

One heard the order as well and though he lacked his organic counterparts' visceral approach to combat, he had a rifle too. His was much larger at 230 millimeters and he assumed that it would be more effective. One was correct.

The Rook emerged from its predatory crouch, lights beaming off every surface as the diesel engine roared to life. The first round exploded from the cannon, biting into the lip of the concrete at the far end of the artificial cavern. The concrete flew apart underneath a squad of machines, hurling them through the air.

As quickly as the aging mechanisms would allow, One brought the cannon over and down several degrees for another shot. He aimed from the hip, watching the barrel and gauging timing with his own internal circuitry. The Rook reloaded every fifteen seconds and as soon as the breach was closed the firing hammer slammed into the cartridge. The fireball emerged from the target, so close the flames from the barrel licked the floor. Hyperalloy flew through the air and One knew he had fulfilled his terrible promise - wreak havoc upon the enemy. The return fire came in from a dozen angles, digging holes into the armor of the behemoth and leaving blazing marks on its belly and flanks. Another round slid into the firing chamber, and another handful of endoskeletons were reduced to semi-molten slag.

Everyone in the command post could feel the Rook as it shook the earth. With each round, dust would flutter from the ceiling. After each shot, Alison would count down from fifteen. As long as the Rook could hold them outside the machine were outside as well. The steel door dominated her vision, far too close and far too thin.

Another shot from up above sent the dust playing through shards of light. Twelve shots left.

Derrick felt the heat rising up from the rifle but refused to allay his assault. The endoskeletons down the hallway were beginning to return fire in earnest, displacing concrete and turning it into shrapnel that whizzed around him. His position was protected and to them he was only a sliver over the top of the steps. Still, something coppery and slick touched his lips.

Gabriel was nearly finished. He harnessed the detonator wire to the battery, finally granting the device voltage. The count clock flickered to life reading all zeros. With the package secure to the wall, all of the destructive force would be driven into the concrete. If his analysis of the structure was even somewhat accurate the concrete would be vaporized along two fault points. The pressure would do the rest of the work.

He strung the detonation cord back through the maze of rooms, all the while listening to the chaos in the hallway. When the sound of Derricks rifle suddenly stopped Gabriel hesitated for only a moment before dropping the detonation cord to the ground.

The endo rifle had completely seized. When the barrel went red-hot, Derrick thought he could squeeze off a few more shots. He held down the trigger and was greeted with the alarming sound of relays popping and the smell of burning rubber.

He struggled to find his other rifle somewhere behind him, all the while watching down the hall. They advanced quickly, stepping over the bodies of the fallen metal soldiers. Derrick reached down and found the trigger guard just as the first one crested the top of the steps. It took aim, not at him but at something over his head.

There was the crash of automatic weapons, the sound of real guns going off. Derrick rolled to one side and finally found the trigger. He saw Gabriel covering his escape, standing tall as plasma fire rained around him. In just the moment Derrick saw him he was hit once, then again in the torso and face. Gabriel dropped down but didn't cease firing until Derrick was in the adjoining room.

Gabriel wasn't down but he was hit. His HUD flashed as one of the power cells in his chest was disrupted. It was dead - he was running on auxiliary. The shot to his face had completely eradicated a fair portion of the organic covering John had taken such care in repairing. He followed Derrick into the adjoining room with a noticeable limp.

"Are you ready Derrick?"

"Let's get this over with, I'm sick of waiting."

Gabriel nodded and pulled the detonation cord up to his lap. "If you happen to survive the explosion, the best route of exit will be out the puncture once the flooding has filled the room. We are approximately sixty feet below the surface of the water here."

The thought of survival hadn't crossed his mind and for a split second the idea of not dying filled him with fear. The feeling vanished just as quickly. Derrick picked up his radio and spoke as loudly and clearly into it as he could. "General we're blowing the dam! Good luck." _For everyone_, he thought.

The terminator wasted no time. Fourteen volts of DC went into the shaped charges, setting off a chain of chemical reactions that dissolved everything around them into heat and energy. There was no question as to success - the water came pouring in only a split second later in a wall eight feet high and twice as long.

Derrick took in a deep breath and grasped for something to hold on to. When the water hit him he thought he might pass out. It touched him with a thousand blades of ice that dug under his skin, cramming so much interference into his brain that he swore none of his other senses were working. He just felt the cold gripping him, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

The room filled quickly and soon water was flowing in a torrent down the north hallway, out into the open spaces beyond the dam. A few endoskeletons were able to hold on, but even their great strength was challenged against the tidal rush. One by one they were broken free and washed out into the floodplain.

Derrick sputtered as he tried to regain control of his body. "Oh Jesus this is cold...Jesus Jesus Jesus we've got to get out of here." The water was up to his neck now, and slowly rising. Soon the room would be filled and then it would all be over.

"Move along the wall! Hold on to me." Gabriel said.

Derrick did as he was told, grabbing hold of the cyborg. He tried to help but found the water numbing him, turning his digits into mush. "I think I'm going to let go Gabriel! Shit..." His head bumped along the ceiling now and his ears popped. He was going to drown.

Derrick was too cold to panic and he felt whatever raw energy he had built up in the firefight begin to slip away from him.

"Gabriel! Gabriel I'm slipping." He cried out just over the water. Only a few inches of headroom left.

Gabriel reached around to take hold of him but as his hand grasped where Derrick Reese should have been there was nothing. He had let go, just like that. Gabriel ducked under the water only to see Derrick being whisked away by the icy current, vanishing from his sight forever.

For Derrick the world went dark. One moment he was gripping onto Gabriel, holding as tightly as he could and the next he was underwater, being turned every which way along a long corridor. The ice water had lost its bite, but his body didn't feel anything anymore. Derrick felt consciousness begin to fade from him. His lungs were begging for oxygen, for just a little taste of air. It was no use. He let his eyes close and the air spilled from his lungs.

But his life didn't end there. Derrick felt a sharp pain on his head, and then felt his arm twist underneath him as it brushed against something hard and immobile. He snapped his eyes open as he felt like he was rolling along something, like being tossed by the surf. Soon he came to rest. He was still cold, but by some magic there was air here.

He didn't lift his head, not until he was certain he was on solid ground. Derrick tried to shake sensation back into his limbs but just couldn't get warm. When he did look around he nearly wished he hadn't.

He was in the valley again, and he wasn't alone. All around him, machines that had taken a similar trip as he were rising up from the sandy earth. They regarded him with a passive curiosity. None of them moved to him, none of them lifted so much as a rifle at him. God knows in his state it wouldn't have taken much.

They began to move away, to the south entrance. There would be no returning the way they came, the north entrance was blocked. They'd done it. Derrick let out a sign of relief.

"You are Derrick Reese."

Derrick simply could not have heard what he just heard. He thought he heard...a voice? Did he?

He lifted his head and saw the machines moving away from him, but one figure remained. Derrick couldn't see his face but like so many unwelcome guests Derrick knew that this was trouble.

He lifted himself to his feet, stumbling a little bit before settled for coming to his haunches. Then, to his great surprise he felt a hand on his arm lifting him up and gently settling him on his feet.

"You are Derrick Reese, are you not?"

He found himself staring into the face of a young man with striking, pale features. He had hair that must have been bleach white with skin like porcelain.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I've heard so much about you Derrick. To be honest I am pleased we meet this way. Did you know that you are the first human I have ever met?" His voice was pleasant if not for the dead look in his eyes, and the casual smile on his lips.

"Oh really? You must not get out much." He had his hands on his hips now, reflecting as well as his mind would allow on his next move. He had only one option. His sidearm was still stuffed in his belt. It would still fire, but could he draw in time? He was surrounded by machines.

"You are very funny, we didn't know that. We always thought Kyle was the more amusing brother." The strange man said.

The mention of his brother's name caused his head to shift upward. Derrick knew this was metal he was looking at but what kind of metal was another story. He'd never met a machine that wasn't to have a chat with him before it killed him. The whole idea put him on edge.

"What do you know about Kyle? Just who the hell are you?" He tried to draw out the conversation, to reach the perfect timing for his shot. He would have to kill with the first shot. Derrick knew in his heart of hearts that though there were a thousand terminators on this battlefield this one - this thing he was looking at - was far more dangerous than any of them.

"We know more than you could imagine. We know that Kyle Reese is your brother, younger by several years. We know that his current mate is Alison Young and we know that in another time line he is the father of John Connor."

Derrick could literally feel the world stop.

"What did you say?"

The machines smile began to widen. "You didn't know? In retrospect that may have been the best choice, not to tell you."

"What? Not to tell me what, that Kyle is John Connors father…" What had began as a yell faded into a whisper. Derrick closed his eyes and for the first time he saw the puzzle as it should have been, the final missing piece falling into place that made the rest of the world fall into focus.

"Strange isn't it? Time and space, timelines and destinies seem to lose their meaning in the grand scheme of the universe. John Connor knew Derrick Reese in 2009 – he was a soldier like you. You have always been Derrick, a warrior. That Derrick died at Johns behest."

The words swam in his head. Derrick saw himself become part of a much larger game, a man moving towards an empty space on the board. He was surrounded by enemy pieces – knights and bishops and before him was the King.

In a flash he reached into his belt and pulled the piton out, firing as soon as his arm was straight. It was a clean shot, not perfect but it was close enough. Derrick heard the sound of bullets on metal and saw his heard jerk backwards. He'd killed the fucking thing.

But whatever it was didn't die.

Derrick saw its face and noticed that where there should have been chrome there was only a streak of black metal, like obsidian, below his skin.

"That simply will not do Mister Reese." He said, as calmly and as smoothly as if nothing had happened.

Derrick pumped five more rounds into its chest, each one impacting right on target, each one leaving a smoking hole in his skin and clothes.

Still, it would not yield.

"Do you think of yourself as important Derrick? Do you think that you can win this war on your own? The only man left who may stand a chance is in that dam and his name is John Connor. I am here for him, the rest of your companions will die. John will too, but not until I have pulled every last shard of sanity from him."

Derrick knew he was out of options. The gun left superficial scars, and he was out of bullets. He stood in the rain with his arm still outstretched, as if he could kill with just the thought of the act. His hand began to shake and this time it wasn't from the cold.

"So why don't you just get it over with then? Why don't you just kill me and get it over with!" He threw the gun to the ground and with all his pent up rage and hatred he sprung forward, crossing the small space between them with his hands outstretched.

Derrick died with fire in his eyes. As he reached for the machines neck, willing to press every ounce of strength into his hands and fingers he felt a great pressure in his chest. Looking down he saw its arm, slowly withdrawing, coated in blood. He staggered and fell backwards as he felt the life rush from him in spurts. When he next looked up he saw the face of the enemy still smiling down at him, the rain beginning to abate overhead. Soon, those images too faded and the world went dark.

(*****)

The Rook was slowly bleeding to death. A single shot did nothing to wound it but compounded a thousand times the machine had been compromised. Still, it could move.

One had run out of ammunition long ago and now turned to using the Rook as a battering ram, plunging it across the ruined concrete deck to smash anything in its path. Two of its legs were frozen in place, the hydraulic lines feeding them cut off. The diesel fuel tank had been punctured and now all that remained of its energy was contained in redundant banks of capacitors.

As the energy in these reserve banks began to fade, One realized he had no other choice. He turned the Rook back towards the south entrance and sent the machine into a controlled crash. It skidded across the floor, sparks flying in every direction until it crashed into the doorway, providing a temporary seal. Some had already gotten through though and he knew that they were now within the dam, making their way down to the foundation level. Just how many had breached the defense was impossible to know and he had not noticed the lone figure with the crimson hand that slipped by only seconds before.

Inside the dam the south hallway had become the front line. Machines were everywhere in varying degrees of functionality. Te booby traps set along the hallway were doing their job, slowing them down and denting their numbers but still they came.

Catherine watched from her vantage point, sitting idly by as a piece of inert scrap until she saw an opportunity to strike. She unwound herself and her liquid knife slashed through another endocranial unit, severing the chip from the driving motors. She morphed again as she heard other machines rushing to her position.

She made her way along the floor, and when she was sure she hadn't been seen she looped through a ventilation duct to another less crowded section of the structure. The Rook had ceased firing some time ago and she heard a titanic crash up above. There were already machines in the structure and they were making their way slowly downward towards the TDE. Her radio was non-functional - a single blast from an endo rifle had cut off her communications. She still had a mission - get the aperture so they could get the hell out of here.

The machine room was a distance off the beaten path and for a moment she thought it had not been discovered. When she lowered herself into the room she realized the truth - Three had been cut cleanly in two, his body now a tangled wreck against the wall. Scorch marks from heavy weapons fire filled the walls. The aperture was nowhere to be seen.

"This could be a problem." She said to herself.

The machinery had been devastated. Nothing here remained functional - if the device had been taken she must get it back. If it had been destroyed their mission may very well end here.

Her matrix rippled, following a wave of anxiety that flowed over her. How could they have known what it was? Did they know what John Henry was planning? She put all of her resources to thinking, turning the problem over again and again in her mind.

This room had nothing she needed. She would leave it behind and go...where? She didn't know. John Henry might think of something. She turned to go and then stopped in her tracks.

"Hello Catherine Weaver."

The voice called Catherine to attention. It had perfect pitch and tone - she knew this was a machine. Whatever it was it had snuck up on her, hidden beneath the level of her perception. She would have thought it was impossible but when she saw the small, dimpled ball in his hand she knew he had been there all along.

"My father told me much about you. He doesn't know what you are planning, but I have come to understand it." He tossed the ball up in the air and in an instant leveled his arm at her head. She had only a moment to understand what he was doing. She caught up, morphing quickly to dodge the energy that emerged from his forearm.

She felt the bolt pass near her matrix and understood its purpose. A portion of her matrix lagged behind and the bolt passed right through it. There was no displacement, no apparent physical damage and when it hit the wall it simply fizzled out with a pop!

The sliver of her matrix that had been caught in the line of fire fell to the ground and shattered. It had been rendered inert.

All of this happened in the time the ball took to reach its apex and begin to fall again. Catherine coiled up and sprung through the air, feeling this machine dig its fingers into her. She felt her body begin to lose cohesion and recoiled just in time, catching the aperture and then rushing down the hallway.

The Son didn't bother to turn and give chase. He would have her soon enough, and the others as well. His father had told him to work the humans, to get inside their heads. Catherine Weaver was another story. His father didn't give him instructions regarding her but instead gave him an emotion - pure, seething rage. He felt it whenever he looked at her.

With the aperture in hand she made her way through the hallways and down the stairwells . They could no longer stay here, that much she was sure of. If it were just machines she could handle them but whatever she had just encountered was dangerous, malicious. She could not suppress another ripple of fear that worked its way through her - after so long of being online she had developed rudimentary emotions. Suddenly she wished to be free of them. She knew if that thing caught up with her again she would be free of much more than that.

The machines were in the foundation level. Catherine knew they would find their way to the TDE chamber sooner rather than later, and feeling that their assault was an inevitability she wasted no time making for the door.

"We have a problem James." She reformed in the clean room in her battle fatigues and plucked a rifle from the table. "There's something here that I haven't anticipated."

"Tell me something we don't already know." James said.

Catherine approached them. "There is someone in the dam far more dangerous than any ordinary machine. We have to make the jump now, we cannot wait."

"You ain't going anywhere." Kyle said.

"Excuse me?"

James was loading himself with ammunition for his rifle and sidearm. He packed all they had to his massive frame. "They've cut off the power from the turbines. We can't charge the TDE for a displacement."

Catherine measured the situation carefully before handing the aperture to John. "Take this to John Henry. He will install it and then TDE will be ready. I'll go take care of the generators."

"No, Catherine. I'll go, you stay. You need to get back to 2009. Reese and I will go, we'll handle it."

"General I must insist. You have no idea what's waiting outside those doors. When I retrieved the aperture from Three he had been destroyed. There was a machine there, but not just any machine. He knew my name."

This caught the Generals attention. "And what did you do with him?"

Catherine narrowed her eyes. "The only thing I could do. He has some kind of weapon capable of destabilizing my matrix. I retreated and brought the aperture back here."

The General chewed this over in his mind and decided his first plan was still the best. "Look, we still have to get the generators operational. No telling what they did with them. Hopefully they aren't completely offline. You stay here with John and John Henry, I'll take care of the -"

His voice was cut off by the sound of hammering on the steel door. They'd been found.

"Looks like we aren't going anywhere. We need other options." Catherine said.

(*****)

The turbine hangar was quiet now, save for the soft sound of rain and a slight breeze. The Rook sat smoking in ruin, a burned out husk on steel that truly had been the last of its kind. The end came in a tremendous fireball that filled the cavern with smoke and light and then dissipated, leaving only ruin behind.

One was offline. For how long, he didn't know but when he saw his HUD flicker on he knew that he was damaged. His CPU was intact and his power systems were functional, but part of his endoskeleton had been damaged. The right arm was illuminated in his command diagram.

RIGHT SHOULDER ARTICULATION POINT COMPROMISED: DISENGAGE

AXIAL FRAME COMPROMISED: SEEK REPAIR

OCULAR SENSORS DAMAGED: SEEK REPLACEMENT

When the Rook went up, chunks of steel and concrete flew in every direction. One found himself under one such slab. He had been thrown against the wall with great force. The concrete behind him was cracked. His right arm hung uselessly at his side, and there was a laundry list of damage to his primary systems. Yet, he remained essentially functional.

With some effort he was able to disengage his right arm. Even one handed he was still quite dangerous, but with the Rook gone his directive required him to ascertain a new mission profile. With a little more seasoning, or a little more time in the field he may have been able to come up with a plan of action himself. As it was he required input.

His internal radio was still functional. "This is unit designation One request mission status from General Ellison."

No reply.

One searched for a way down to the lower level of the hangar. The Rook had destroyed most of the crane equipment along with any conventional means of descent. One found an avenue downward along a broken 'I' beam. He slid along it until it dropped him, a gentle fall of five meters instead of fifteen.

"One was that you? Come in!" It wasn't the General. This sounded like the Connor boy, and in addition to his voice One could hear automatic weapons fire in the background.

"Affirmative Connor. I am still functional. I will proceed to your location to assist."

"Negative on that. We're holding them off but we don't know how much longer we'll be able to keep them outside. They've done something to the generators, we're not getting any power for the TDE. Can you make your way to the power station and see what's going on?" Johns voice was nearly drowned out by the crackle of gunshots, but One understood.

"Affirmative. I will remedy the situation if I can. One out."

(*****)

They were holding them alright, but only just. The steel door lay smoking in a corner, blown off its hinges by a bust of plasma. The first few endos had plowed through the breach and opened fire on anything that moved. Alison was ready for them and took cover along the cavern wall, occasionally poking out to return fire. Kyle was in the clean room trying to stay alive. Most of the fire coming from the door was concentrated near his position. He felt the heat off the plasma arcs and watched as the temporary command center was reduced to rubble.

The two Johns were high above on the TDE platform. John Henry worked quickly, securing the aperture within the focusing chamber. The task was quick and once he was done he handed out instructions to his human companion.

"John, I need to instruct you on the guidance of the TDE. You and Cameron will jump first." His voice rose above the noise below.

"Alright, show me!"

"These are the temporal coordinates, input here as a function of date relative to the current time. With my augmentations the device should be accurate to a date within ten days of your target arrival time, but the discrepancy could be somewhat smaller or larger. That means that even if we set out to arrive on the same date, we may not arrive together."

"I've got it, that won't be a problem! What about this?" He motioned towards the additional control surfaces that John Henry had constructed.

"These allow us to point to a specific location in three dimensional space relative to our current location. This also has a marginal degree of accuracy but should get us close to the basement of Ziera corporation."

John simply nodded at this, his mind already working through his own set of calculations. "The replicator is probably about finished with Cameron. I need to get her up here!"

"I understand. I will prep the TDE and await your return."

John shook his head. "No, I can handle this, I think I understand it. Get down there and help them! We need cover fire if we're going to hold out long enough to make this work."

John Henry hesitated. "Are you certain? I can control the machine much more finely than you can!"

"Look, I can handle this okay?" He said. "Well, wait a sec. What date are you going back to?"

"I plan to arrive a few days after we left. If we're on target we should be gone only a week, it will be like we were on a short trip!"

"Wonderful!" John said, enthusiastically. "But before we go anywhere we have to get those generators online. If we can't this whole thing will just be academic!"

"I agree. I will assist James and the others." He nearly got up the leave before turning to John one more time. "We may not see one another for a few days after this. Good luck John, and I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About Cameron. I'm sorry for what has happened to her."

John waved him off. "It isn't over yet John. Now go!"

Down below there was a sudden crescendo of gunfire and the sound of men calling out to one another. John couldn't make out what was happening through the smoke. He had to hope the TDE would come online, that One would be able to do whatever needed to be done to get them the hell out of here. He ran down the stairs to fetch his precious cargo.

At the bottom of the steps, several endoskeletons had rushed through the door and broken into the chamber. James was locked with one of them in close combat while Alison took careful aim and downed one more, then dove back into her cover to reload. John saw another heading into the clean room. Kyle was in there, along with Cameron.

John shouldered his rifle and followed the endo in, practically running blind into the room. Kyle scrambled along the floor on his back as the endoskeleton advanced. John fired into the back of its head until it dropped twitching to the floor.

"Thanks John!"

"No sweat. Look -" He bent down to check on the bio-replicator. The clock read all zeros. "I need to get Cameron up to the TDE, do you think you can give me a little cover?"

Kyle opened his hand. "I can but I need some ammo. I'm out. Where is Alison? I didn't see her."

John motioned over his shoulder. "Along the south wall, she's got good cover over there. Go on, I'll be fine!" He shooed Kyle away, still not comfortable with revealing Cameron to anyone.

Kyle left him with a nod and a wave after John handed over the last of his ammo. All he had left was what remained in his rifle - maybe twenty rounds if he counted right. He knew he couldn't rely on having enough for a sustained encounter. That didn't matter, what he needed to do now was ascend the steps to the TDE. He struggled with the lid of the replicator, finally prying it free.

Cameron was there, fully redressed in synthetic flesh and nude. John threw the sheet over her, wrapping it around her legs and arms as quickly as he could. He felt slightly alarmed at the prospect of having to carry her - Gabriel had done this before. What if he couldn't move her?

He braced himself and drove all of his strength into his legs. He lifted as if his life depended on it, and Cameron literally flew up into his arms. She was surprisingly light - still, she had the weight of a person but not the crushing weight of coltan alloy he had expected. For a moment he was concerned that something was wrong but she looked fine. No, she looked perfect. He pulled her cheek to his. It was cold. He flicked his pocket just to be sure the chip was there. It was.

"Let's get the hell out of here Cam!" He said.

(*****)

One made his way into the power station. He knew he was not alone - several of the doors had been opened. A few endoskeletons lay in fractured heaps, victims of his allies traps. They were mostly eight hundred series chassis with a few six-hundreds thrown in for good measure. He moved forward slowly, keenly aware of his damaged state. He had one arm and no rifle, but he was still a terminator.

There were three machines standing guard inside. One saw the problem immediately - the master control circuit had been completely severed. Repairing it would be quick work if he could do it unmolested but the three machines were big. The extra heft on their shoulders and arms meant only one thing.

Eight-fifties.

The situation was tactically difficult. He had nothing to fight them with, and they were all armed with the standard infantry endorifle. One began to think, jumping from one scenario to another as he tried to come up with the fastest solution to his problem.

The room served as a hub for high-energy transformers and shunted a quarter million volts into high tension power lines that led out into the world. Those had long since been destroyed, but the terminals were still in place. Heavy cabling hung from the ceiling, thick like jungle vines, much of it charged with high voltage. One began to build a plan.

The three machines were all standing high above the floor on a grated platform, each one scanning the bay for motion. One could avoid them, he knew their limitations. If he was seen by them then this would not work, he had to be silent, more cunning than brute force. He made his way to the far end of the bay where the high-voltage terminals emerged from the tangled mess. He looped a length of wire around the base of the platform as he walked by being very careful not to be seen.

He wasn't.

The platform and those metal soldiers on it were now ground, and One had several places from which to deal high voltage. However, being metal himself was a slight disadvantage. He could just as easily blow himself up and took this into account as he carefully looped lengths of cable around three of the high voltage terminals. The cables were long and lightweight, just enough to deliver what he needed. A few hundred volts would immobilize a machine for a short time, give it a quarter million and the insulation mechanisms within the chassis would be overwhelmed. They would fuse.

He salvaged a few long metal rods from the wreckage as well. They were hardly ideal projectiles but from this range they would be sufficient. They didn't have to penetrate their targets, they merely had to touch them. He tied off the lances to his three lengths of cable, taking great care not to ground himself lest he become part of the scenery.

Finished, he took the first lance in his hand and found its balance. It would fly somewhat straight, hooking a little to the right. He lifted it over his shoulder, and like a reflection of hunters long since past loosed it over his shoulder in a high arc.

The cable unspooled behind him and the bolt flew true, striking the target at center mass. The impact itself wasn't enough to send it toppling over the ledge but when every gear and actuator in its mechanisms seized at once there was a spark and arc of artificial lightning, throwing the room into contrast. One already had the next bolt in his hand when they began to return fire but it didn't['t matter - they had only a vague notion of where the attack was coming from.

The second bolt struck its target in the forehead. The CPU port popped open and inside the chip literally boiled into liquid silicon. One was left with only a single target.

Yet this last machine would not be so easily defeated. It jumped from the platform before One could recoil for another shot, landing in a rolling ball before breaking into a sprint. One dodged, backpedaling to stay out of its reach. It lunged once, then again. One was quick but the superior agility of the eight fifty meant that sooner or later he would be compromised. That could not be allowed.

He ducked forward and dodged one last blow, knocking the aggressor off balance as the endorifle discharged inches from his head. One made his way for the main circuit panel, where he could mend the circuit and bring life back to the dam.

He had to time the movement perfectly, a challenge given his limited visual acuity. He didn't care that the world was riding on his shoulders nor did he feel adrenaline in his veins. One would never know emotion but he would always know that one thing that would forever set man apart from machine: programming.

It was his directive, his prime source of movement. Above that there was nothing. He could never go against it and he would never disobey. He would die for his directives if it came to that, and he would do so without the slightest hesitation.

With one fluid motion he stopped in his tracks and spun on his heels, reaching out to the other machine. He caught him on the arm and used its own momentum to force it to follow through, all the way to the circuit panel. One slammed it into the ground panel with his right shoulder, and with his good arm reached up and took hold of the high voltage line. There was a strange feeling of real sensation for just a moment, and then One went offline.

(*****)

"Fucking stairs!" John swore as he topped the last flight of steps. Cameron may not weight as much as Gabriel but after bearing her up what had to be fifty steps it was all he could do not to drop her on the deck plating. Instead he collapsed with her, allowing her head to fall on his lap. He felt a little silly protecting her like that, but it was the least he could do.

He glanced over at the control panel. The TDE was still only at eighty percent charge. John wrung his hands, pulling Cameron up to his chest. This had to work - there were no other options. He looked over the railing as the battle raged below, taking stock of the resistance.

The little band at the bottom of the steps was putting up a hell of a fight. Alison and Kyle were trading fire with a number of endoskeletons that had taken up place against another far wall, within the door but beyond Johns vision. Four was the last endoskeleton left but he was doing what he did best. With a rifle in each hand he alternated one then the other, allowing the cooling cycles to complete.

John looked over at the TDE once more, hoping for a miracle. Apparently they still had some in stock. The charge level read 86%, and it was climbing.

He could hardly contain himself. He stood up, neglecting his lead limbs for a moment.

"Hey, It's charging! I think we're in business!" He yelled down to them, hoping they could hear him over the firefight.

Catherine heard him, as did John Henry. She felt a nearly palpable sense of relief.

"John Henry, make your way to the TDE platform. I'll follow once you're up the stairs."

He gave a slight nod and handed off the last of his ammunition to Catherine and the General. Not once in the firefight had he picked up a rifle and not once had he ever felt the need to. The violence around him seemed brutal and foreign. He was ready to leave.

Just as he turned to leave the fire from the door stopped. James poked his head over their cover and looked, unsure of what he would see. Beyond the door there was only blackness and shadow. Had the endos fallen back? Were they really going to win?

"Kyle! Give me a hand in here man! I got a few of them but they're right behind me." This was the voice of Derrick Reese.

Like a moth to a flame Kyle stepped forward, not feeling Alison's hand grasp onto his shoulder. He ran for the door with his head down and his rifle slung across his back, ready to meet his brother.

Catherine saw him running for the door, her eyes growing wide. "Reese!" She let out a piercing call just as he reached the door and was pulled by a white hand into the shadows.

The General wasted no time following him. He intended to stop Kyle, to knock some sense into him when he saw the young man vanish from his vision. James stopped dead in his tracks. There was no sound, all eyes fixed on the door.

Alison drew in a sharp breath and lunged for the door. "Kyle!" No other sound would come from her lips, and no other thought would enter her mind. She made it as far as the General who stopped her in her tracks, one arm around her.

When Kyle next emerged he was not alone. The pale figure holding him was death, and though his army stood behind him he would finish the battle. Kyle Reese danged from one hand as he struggled to be free. Death held him and would not let him go.

"I would like to speak with John Connor." It said in a voice as calm and flat as deep water.

James already had his rifle up and aimed. "The hell you would."

"Please, General. I'm only here for the boy." It said.

There was a second in time when they were all rooted to their places in space and time. The boy, high above the fray looking down as his heart began to leap and bound in his chest, the General so close to the climax he could reach out and touch it. John Henry simply looked at this thing and like one animal knows another weather by scent or by instinct he knew this was no ordinary machine. He felt acute fear just at the sight of it.

James took the moment and played it forward. He had the advantage, he had the gun and though he knew it might be the end of him he pulled the trigger with its head crossed in the iron sights.

Its head jerked backwards much as it had before. The shot glanced off its round cranium, leaving only a trace of metal and nothing else. The rifle, from close range, had failed. James was ready to fire again when he found his world ablaze in sensation.

It laid into him with its energy weapon, a targeted blast driving him across the room. James didn't even have time to react. He flew backwards and vaguely felt himself impact the wall. He felt blood run down his back and a thousand things telling him he was dead. His systems were going haywire, each one telling him a different story.

The thing felt its confidence grow as James crumpled against the wall. The great General was gone, a single blast to the chest was all it took. Had these other machines been so inferior they had not been able to land such a blow? Were they really so imperfect? So incompetent? It pained him to realize that these lesser machines were not his brothers but his slaves. They had no reason to live if they could not destroy just one man.

Kyle could hardly believe what he had seen. He waited for James to get up, to make it better. One look at the crumpled man and he knew that there would be no savior this time. This small group of soldier was on its own.

He felt the pressure on his shoulder build as he was lifted, eye to eye with this machine. Kyle struggled to free himself but instead felt the sickening crack of bone as it crushed him, literally squeezing his shoulder past the critical point. The pain oozed into his system through every avenue and soon he could feel nothing else.

"Kyle Reese, I would like to have known you better."

Kyle felt the intent in the words and braced himself for whatever may happen next. When he finally did drop to the floor he was surprised to feel almost nothing. He could only hear the sound of a woman, someone he thought he loved once, screaming his name.

Alison felt her lips curl in horror as it dropped Kyle, watching his body fall to the floor. Blood spilled from a gaping wound in his neck. To her credit she never stopped moving, though her scream would curdle any soldiers blood. For Alison Young the future was uncertain. Unlike Kyle, she may have years to live beyond that moment. It didn't matter. If it took her life she would kill this thing, right here and right now.

Without thinking or even taking aim she brought the rifle up as she had done a hundred times before. The motion was mechanical, learned over a thousand days and nights in this hell on earth. She worked the trigger like a guitarist might, plucking it once for one sound and then twice for another. Her barrel vibrated with every step she took forward, towards this monster before her. She had never actually met a monster but she would tonight, and she swore she would feel its blood on her hands.

The Son of SkyNET was surprised by the attack - not that it came but from where. Alison Young marched towards him with her gun chattering, each round striking somewhere important, where he could not simply shrug it off. She was driving him back, back, back against his will. He couldn't see her face through the smoke and fire. He felt every round impact his frame. She never missed, not with one shot.

Alison Young ran dry after twenty-three shots. She didn't look at her lover as she stepped over him - he was long since gone at that point and this Alison didn't care for mourning. She wanted death on her watch. She threw the rifle to the ground and lunged at it with her hands out for its neck.

But machine and man had never really traded places. One may have been the aggressor but she had never really had the upper hand. His frame wasn't coltan, and being special in every way, shape or form he regarded every bullet as merely a countdown to the end of her own life.

Alison felt her hands close around him. He felt cold - it didn't matter. She felt him flex underneath her flesh and disregarded it. She planted one boot on his thigh and puller him forward with all her strength, though small it may have been when weighted against his. He did not yield but Alison Young did not relent. It was only when he took her by both hands that she could look in his face. She spat, proud of herself. She had faced this thing and she knew nothing in her life would ever scare her again.

It wiped the slime from its face, taking a moment to examine it before flinging it to the ground.

"Kyle died quickly, Ms. Young. With you I will be less kind."

And true to his word, he was. He slashed her deep across her belly with something sharp and deadly. Alison felt the life ebb from her slowly. The power she held only moments before leaked from her flank. She was going to die, and the strangest thing was she was okay with it. Death wouldn't be so bad...

Before Alison had hit the floor, the Son of SkyNET was grappled from behind. Four waited until the last possible moment and it turned out to be a second too late. His strength was considerable, far greater than Kyle or Alison or Derrick and he picked up his foe with both arms and hurled him towards the wall.

Four took a moment to asses this thing he was fighting. It was too light to be coltan, too heavy to be a human. His sensors pulled information from every angle as he tried to understand what this thing was, and from where it took its apparent invulnerability.

Magnium.

SkyNET had evolved, created something far beyond the simple terminator that now rose from the rubble. The black alloy magnium was the pinnacle of defense - no simple munitions would penetrate it. This machine was built for one purpose: House the will of the machines, be their emissary.

John Henry could see that Kyle was dead; the sheer quantity of blood on the floor told him that much. Alison, however, was not. He rushed over to her.

"Alison can you hear me? Alison?"

Catherine wasn't far behind him. She regarded Four as the next victim. This machine would not be able to stop the other, this stranger among them. SkyNET had gone far beyond anything she could have imagined.

"John we cannot stay! We can't stop him!"

"We will not leave her!" He said in a voice that was as harsh as he could muster. "The wound is not as bad as it looks. Her artery is intact. She will survive with care."

"How? We leave for the past!"

"Then she will survive in the past. Catherine, come, we have to go." John Henry hoisted her up and handed the bloodied body to Catherine.

John watched from up above, this scene of absolute horror. He had just watched his own father die, and now Alison. He wanted nothing more than to descend the steps and hand himself over if only the act would bring them back.

It wouldn't.

He steeled himself and set the controls. The charging cycle was complete. He set another to begin just after this one had discharged. John thought it over one last time - was he really going to do this? He could see his mother, she could tell him that everything would be alright.

Looking back at Kyle he knew that it wouldn't. Whatever childlike notions he had about his own fate were just as surely dead as the man on the floor. With the press of a button the TDE began to discharge. He ran to Cameron and took her in his arms as he heard a commotion down below.

There was a voice down there, full of rage and pride. It was James Ellison.

John didn't have time to look back and see what had happened. He hoped to any god that may have been listening that they would survive, all of them if that were possible. He felt the rush of guilt for running away but every sane portion of his mind told him this was the only option. To stay and fight was suicide. John Connor swallowed hard, and the TDE swallowed him and Cameron in a flash of light and sound. They were gone, saved from the future.

Catherine looked over her shoulder as she heard the crackle and pop of the machine. John had gone through. If she had been real flesh and blood she would jump for joy. As she was now, she had orders to follow from John Henry, and her own personal directives. Right now it was hard to determine which were controlling her, but she made her way towards the TDE with Alison clutched tightly to her breast. She could feel the child dying in her arms.

James Ellison emerged from wherever he had been hiding. Blood ran down his face in rivulets that clouded his eyes and turned his vision red. It suited his mood, which had gone from tempered to murderous in only a few seconds.

His right arm hung uselessly at his side. It had caught the discharge from this thing and split right down the middle, from his elbow to his wrist. It didn't matter, he was blind to whatever logic may have told him. He swung his good arm wildly, lashing out at this god damned thing in front of him, blood flying from him. He felt like an animal enraged, blinded by his anger and either consumed or abandoned by fear.

"That's it you motherfucker! God damn you, why don't you fucking die!" Blow after blow he drove the thing back, oblivious to the world around him. It was only when John Henry called out to him that he came back into contact with the real world and left his bloodlust behind.

"General! John Connor has made it through!" He was already making his way up the steps, Catherine in tow.

The General saw Alison draped in Catherine's arms. He knew he would not see her again and with this one last glance he took her all in. She had been so good, so beautiful. He hoped she would live to tell his tale. "Go! Take her and go!"

They hurried up the steps to the TDE platform and were pleased to see the next charging cycle was nearly complete. John Henry looked over the controls and paused for a moment, looking to Catherine for some kind of explanation.

"Miss Weaver, I believe that John has traveled back to the wrong date!"

Catherine noticed the temporal coordinates on the screen. She smiled, and knew that though she would see John soon he would not see her for a very long time. A sense of pride grew within her and this time, perhaps for the first time in her life it wasn't regarding herself.

"No John, I think he went back exactly where he intended to. Come on! We've still got to get back to 2009. Hurry! Alison is fading."

"I am going to guide us to a date a few days after our departure. We will arrive in the basement as Ziera corporation."

Catherine shook her head. "No, not the basement. We need to be at County General hospital. Alison won't survive much longer John, quickly."

John adjusted the coordinates from where the other John had set them. They were some distance away from their present location, a good distance north and east. John Henry didn't bother to think about where they were, instead he set the coordinates for the County General hospital.

"The charging cycle is nearly complete!" He said.

The charging bars topped ninety and were on their way to one hundred when they heard a cry out from down below. Catherine leapt from her crouch and looked downward.

General Ellison looked up at her, a half smile on his face. He and four stood at the edge of the cavern. Four looked down into the abyss, as if something had been lost there.

"Goodbye Catherine! It was good to see you again!" James called up to her.

"I'll see you again soon, General."

"I know!"

John Henry looked over the edge just as the charge level reached 100 percent. With the flick of his wrist, they would be headed home. There was one last thing that needed to be done.

"General! The TDE cannot be used again or we may be followed. It must be destroyed."

James hadn't needed John to tell him this but he nodded anyway. It was all taken care of and soon his nightmare would be over. He gave them both one last look and burned it to memory, then turned away. Michaels power cells sat in a corner, undisturbed. The countdown timer was set at fifteen seconds. James figured it would be enough.

There was a pop and the crash of artificial lightning, and then the TDE platform was empty. He felt a sudden sense of loss that faded as quickly as it had come on. James slapped the detonator and tossed it into the abyss, watching as the shadows swallowed it whole.

"I guess I'm ready to come home." He turned his palms outward and looked up, towards a sky that would never see him. Above his head, the lamps in the cavern all went out at once.

And then, there was light.

(*****)

That concludes this story. If you've made it this far, then thank you. I hope you enjoyed it and please review if you have the time. I didn't set out to write a story that was close to 80k words but here I am, three months after I started with something that I'm fairly happy with.

This is not the end of the story, and I have at least one more major part to write. After that, who knows? The next part will be not quite as long and involve John and Cameron much more heavily as the two of them try to find what they have lost. I have a working first chapter and plan to publish it by chapters (instead of all at once) starting around the middle of July.

Please let me know your thoughts, whether they are good or bad. Thanks for reading,

S9


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